“Alas,” said Ralph, “I am thinking of something worse than jolts or squeaks.  I am hungry, and I am sure you must be, and I don’t see what we are going to do about supper.  I am afraid I am not a very good manager, yet.  I had an idea that Cobhurst was not so far from the station, and that we could go over and look at the house, and come back to a hotel and stay there for the night; but now I see it will be dark before we get there, and we shall not feel like turning round and going directly back.  Perhaps it would be better to turn now.”

“Turn back, when we are going to our home!” cried Miriam.  “How can you think of such a thing, Ralph?  And you needn’t suppose that neither of us is a good manager.  I am housekeeper now, and I did not forget that we shall need our supper.  I have it all there in my bag, and I shall cook it as soon as we reach the house.  Of course I knew that we could not expect anything to eat in a place with only a man to take care of it.”

“What in the world have you?” asked Ralph, much amused.

“I have four breakfast rolls,” she said, “six mutton chops, a package of ground coffee, another of tea, a pound of sugar, and a good big piece of gingerbread.  I am sorry I couldn’t bring any butter, but I was afraid that might melt in a warm car, and run over everything.  As for milk, we shall have to make up our minds to do without that for one meal.  I got up early this morning, and went out and bought all these things.”

Ralph was on the point of saying, “What are we going to have for breakfast?” But he would not trouble his sister’s mind with any such suggestions.

“You are a good little housewife,” said he; “I wish we were there, and sitting down at the table—­if there is any table.”

“I have thought it all out,” said Miriam, “if it is one of those large farm-houses, with a big kitchen, where the family eat and spend their evening, we shall eat there, too, this once.  You shall build a fire, and I’ll have the coffee made in no time.  There must be a coffee-pot, or a tin cup, or something to boil in.  The chops can be broiled over the coals.”

“On what?” asked Ralph.

“You can get a pointed stick and toast them, if there is no other way, sir.  And you need not make fun of my supper; the chops are very nice ones, and I have wrapped them up in oiled silk, so that they will not grease the other things.”

“Oh, don’t talk any more about them,” exclaimed Ralph.  “It makes me too dreadfully hungry.”

“If it is a cottage,” remarked Miriam, looking reflectively out of the window, “I cannot get it out of mind that there will be all sorts of kitchen things hanging around the old-fashioned fireplace.  That would be very nice and convenient, but—­”

“You hope it is not a cottage?” said her brother.

“Well,” answered Miriam, presently, “home is home, and I made up my mind to be perfectly satisfied with it whatever kind of house it may be.  It seems to me that a real home ought to be like parents and relations; we’ve got them, and we can’t change them, and we never think of such a thing.  We love them quite as they are.  But I cannot help hoping, just a little, that it is not a cottage.  The only ones I have ever been in smelt so much of soapsuds.”