Then
he sent the boy below, where Margaret took him in charge with
antiseptics and dressings.
I see her so rarely that a half-hour alone with her these days is an
adventure. She is busy morning to night in keeping her house in
order. As I write this, through my open door I can hear her laying
the law down to the men in the after-room. She has issued
underclothes all around from the slop-chest, and is ordering them to
take a bath in the rain-water just caught. And to make sure of their
thoroughness in the matter, she has told off Louis and the steward to
supervise the operation. Also, she has forbidden them smoking their
pipes in the after-room. And, to cap everything, they are to scrub
walls, ceiling, everything, and then start to-morrow morning at
painting. All of which serves to convince me almost that mutiny does
not obtain and that I have imagined it.
But no. I hear Buckwheat blubbering and demanding how he can take a
bath in his wounded condition. I wait and listen for Margaret's
judgment. Nor am I disappointed.
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