He ambled off while Emma and Barbara busied themselves arranging cooking
utensils and the wooden dishes on the table. Emma shook her hair back.
She recognized, with a trace of shame, that she was far more contented
here, even in this strange spot, than she had been while traveling. The
road was a gypsy life. Even though they slept under the stars and cooked
and ate in the open, for at least a short time this was home. Emma
planned in her mind the meals she would make.