Everything was spotlessly clean. The
floor, the table--innocent of a cloth--the shelves, benches and chests
were scoured to immaculate whiteness with sand and soap, and, despite
its meagre furnishings the room was very snug and cozy and possessed
an atmosphere of homeliness and comfort.
A single window admitted the fading evening light and a candle was
brought, though Douglas said to the young girl who placed it in the
centre of the table:
"So long as there's plenty a' grub, Bessie, I thinks we can find a way
t' get he t' our mouths without ere a light."
The meal was a simple one--boiled fresh trout with pork grease to pour
over it for sauce, bread, tea, and molasses for "sweetening." Butter
and sugar were luxuries to be used only upon rare festal occasions.
After the men had eaten they sat on the floor with their backs against
the rough board wall and their knees drawn up, and smoked and chatted
about the fishing season just closed and the furring season soon to
open, while Margaret Black, wife of Tom Black, the post servant, their
daughter Bessie and a couple of young girl visitors of Bessie's from
down the bay, ate and afterwards cleared the table. Then some one
proposed a dance, as it was their last gathering before going to their
winter trails, which would hold them prisoners for months to come in
the interior wilderness.
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