I
enjoyed the drive over the prairie very much, and we got to our
destination about midday. Then we had dinner, a regular out-West dinner,
all on the table together, everything very good and very plentiful. We
dined in the kitchen, of course, and after dinner I helped Mrs. Hewstead
to wash up the dishes, and then we went out and sat on the north side of
the house in the shade and gossiped, while the men went and inspected
some steam-ploughs and corn-planters, and what not. Then at five o'clock
we had supper. Dear me! when I think of that square meal, and then look
at this table, I certainly realise there is a world of difference
between England and Arkansas."
"Why," said Miss Bascombe, "don't they have tea in America?"
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Boyd, "we had tea and coffee, any number of
cakes and pies, and the coloured man brought up a wheelbarrowful of
water-melons and piled them on the floor, and we ate them all!"
"Dear me," I remarked, "what a very extraordinary repast! I think you
must have felt rather uncomfortable after such a gorge."
"Oh dear, no," returned Mrs. Boyd, smiling; "one can eat simply an
unlimited quantity of water-melons on those thirsty plains. The water is
always sickeningly warm in the summer-time, so that any substitute for
it is eagerly welcomed."
Mrs. Boyd, lost in the recollections of the appetising water-melons, was
clearly forgetting the great point of her story, so I ventured to
suggest it by remarking: "And the highwayman?"
"I am coming to that directly," said Mrs.
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