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"Dear me, that's easy enough," suggested Alma, "just put a wide box plait down the front, like that in a shirtwaist, and it will be all right." "The back can be taken out in the placket," and Ricka folded and lapped the cloth on the little child's shoulders, and then we called Miss E. from the kitchen.
Mary was peeling potatoes in haste, while trying to do other things at the same time, and Ricka and Alma were flying like bees. "Let me peel those potatoes for you," said I, taking the knife from Mary's hand; and when she demurred, I told her I really had nothing to do, and would be glad to assist.
"Good music is always acceptable, Ricka, and on Sunday as well as on any other day, so I cannot see why you will not let me play as I want to. I do not think it a sin to play on the mandolin on Sunday. Do you, Pastor F.?" asked Alma of the preacher, appealingly, and in all innocence. What could he say to her? He laughed.
Alma is not, however, easily put down, and the contest usually winds up with Ricka going into the kitchen where she cannot hear the silly strains of "Johnny," which Alma is picking abstractedly from the strings of the instrument, while the preacher continues his reading, and I go off to my room. Mr.
What an awful experience for women if there were any on board," said sympathetic Ricka, and I left them talking it over, to roll into my cot, weary from twelve hours of hard work and excitement. No anxiety, and no thundering of the breakers could now keep me awake, and for hours I slept heavily. Suddenly I was wide awake. No dream or unusual sound had roused me. Some new danger must be impending.
Alma worked on a fur cap, to practise, she said, on some one before making her own. Ricka mended mittens and other garments for the boys, while I sewed on night clothes for the little Eskimo baby. The child was probably between three and four years old, but nobody knew exactly, for she was picked up on the beach, half dead, a year before, by the missionary, where she was dying of neglect.
Go to bed like good children, do." "How about yourself, ma?" said Ricka, carrying out the farce of mother and children as we often did, Mary being the eldest of the four. "I'm going too, as soon as I get this pancake batter made, for I'm dead tired. We will hear the particulars of the wreck at breakfast," replied Mary. "Poor things! How I pity them.
I have just made four large aprons for Miss J., cutting them out and making them, and they look really well, so I am quite proud of myself, especially as Ricka has "set up" my knitting on needles for me, and I am going to make some hose. I usually knit evenings, between times at the organ, for my new yarn received from San Francisco is very nice, and will make warm winter stockings.
When this is tired of, the smaller instruments are taken out, and Ricka has the greatest difficulty in preventing Alma from amusing the assembled company with her mandolin solo, "Johnny Get Your Hair Cut," the young lady's red lips growing quite prominent while she insists upon playing it.
The two Eskimos brought the reindeer back from the Home today, stopped for lunch, and then went on their way to the herd again. Ricka, Alma and Miss J. went out as far as the cliff for a ride on the sleds behind the deer, but I felt safer indoors. Ricka says when the animals dashed over the big bank, out upon the ice near the cliff, she thought her last hour had come.
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