The wind howled outside, but we heeded
it not, for we were comfortably housed before a blazing peat fire which
gave out a considerable amount of heat. We lit one of our ozokerite
candles, of which we carried a supply to be prepared for emergencies,
and read our home newspaper, _The Warrington Guardian_, which was sent
to us weekly, until supper-time arrived, and then we were surprised by
our hostess bringing in an enormous bowl, apparently an ancient punch
bowl, large enough to wash ourselves in, filled with hot milk and bread,
along with two large wooden spoons. Armed with these, we both sat down
with the punch-bowl between us, hungry enough and greedy enough to
compete with one another as to which should devour the most. Which won
would be difficult to say, but nothing remained except the bowl and the
spoons and our extended selves.
We had walked twenty-seven miles, and it must have been weather such as
we had experienced that inspired the poet to exclaim:
The west wind blows and brings rough weather,
The east brings cold and wet together,
The south wind blows and brings much rain,
The north wind blows it back again!
The beds were placed end to end, so that our feet came together, with a
wooden fixture between the two beds to act as the dividing line.
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