They collected piles of sweet, dry leaves for a bed, and a certain thoughtful mother had tucked into their bags a pair of sheets and a blanket; so they were nicely fitted out.
Gypsy had a secret apprehension that they were preparing for a very luxurious sort of camp-life.

After a little consultation, they decided to make two rooms out of their tent, as they were sadly in need of a kitchen.
Accordingly they took their heavy blanket shawls, tied them together by the fringe, and hung them up as a curtain across the middle of the tent.
The front apartment served nicely as a kitchen, and the provisions and crockery were moved in there, in spite of Tom's ungallant remark that he and Mr.Hallam should never see any of the pies he knew.
By way of recompense, he took the guns, and all dangerous implements, under his own care.
The afternoon was nearly spent, when their preparations were at last completed, and they were ready to begin house-keeping.
"Let's have supper," said Gypsy.

Gypsy was always ready to have supper, whenever dinner-time was passed.
"We haven't a single trout," said Tom.
"It is rather late to fish," said Mr.Hallam.

"The little girls are tired and hungry,--indeed we all are, for that matter,--and I guess we will have supper." Gypsy installed herself as housekeeper-in-general, and she and Sarah lost no time in unpacking the cake and bread and butter.

Tom collected some light, dry brushwood for a fire, and he and Mr.Hallam made the coffee.