"Of course I'm all right, an' sair hungry, tae." "Why, of course.

What a fool I am!" said Kalman.

"I'll make you tea in a minute." "No, let me," cried Marjorie.

"Your poor foot must be awful.
Where's your teapot?
I'm a gran' tea maker, ye ken." She was in one of her daft moods, as Aunt Janet would say.
Never was such tea as that which they had from the tin tea pail and from the one tin cup.

What though the blizzard howled its loudest in front of their cave?
What though the swirling snow threatened now and then to douse their fire?
What though the tea boiled over and the pork burned to a crisp?
What though a single bannock stood alone between them and starvation?
What cared they?
Heaven was about them, and its music was ringing in their hearts.
Refreshed by their tea, they sat before the blazing fire, all three, drying their soaked garments, while Mr.Penny and Marjorie recounted their experiences.