File:Two girls on a barge (1891) (14597926440).jpg

Identifier: twogirlsonbarge00cote (find matches)
Title: Two girls on a barge
Year: 1891 (1890s)
Authors: Cotes, V. Cecil
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, D. Appleton and Company
Contributing Library: Boston Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Public Library

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ves, it appears, in answer to inquiries,when he goes on the purposely to the nearesttown. . . . Breakfast in the middle of the barge mighthave served as an epitome of character for Mr.James, had he wished to study an illogical quartet. Mrs. Bargee < mashed our tea, and she madeit very good. To mash your tea is colloquial canal.We hadnt got a fire so we couldnt mash our own,but we bought a spirit-lamp at Bickmansworth,price one shilling, with a tin saucepan all attachedfor the special purpose, and the first time we usedit it blew up. At least, it made such a conflagra-tion as to discourage further efforts, so Mrs. Bargeemashed our tea, while he of artistic tendenciesforaged for the milk, which presently arrived,in a paper bag and dripping at all the corners.Unluckily, the principal commodity that therewas on board seemed just then to be sweet bis-cuits and Bath Chap. However, Mrs. Bargee lentus a great liberal cottage loaf, the consumptionof which was considerably interrupted by the
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3$ TIVO GIRLS ON A BARGE necessity we found not to miss the view. In thismatter of provisions, we got them whenever wewere hungry, and that usually chanced in someparticularly lonely spot. That day, for breakfast Iremember, there wasnt any sugar, but, then, the un-expected mushrooms ! The Cadets face was fallingrather as he chivvied the air bubbles in the table-cloth with his hands full of spoons—he possessed a club, you know, in the ordinary process of events- -when Edna appeared upon the bank requestingto be taken in with a great bowl of them. .Esthe-tically creamy terra-cotta tinted things that wecould all appreciate. She had got them in a daisyfield and the dew was on them still. But it was the solitary farms that stood backin their unkempt clover fields with their red poppiesnodding on the breezy uplands that really fascinatedus. We rifled their hen roosts—carrying off thenew-laid eggs perilously in blazer pockets, wherethey hob-a-nobbed with Indian ink and daintytubes of pai

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