“Properly,” said John, “we ought not to take tents with us. We ought to make a tent out of a sail by hanging it across the gaff for a ridge pole, and we ought to hold it up with two pairs of oars, a pair at each end. But one tent would not be big enough and to make two we should want eight oars and two sails, big ones. Swallow has only got one small sail, and two oars. So these tents are much better.”
“They are good enough tents except in a high wind,” said mother. “Father and I often slept in one when we were young.”
Titty looked gravely at mother.
“Are you really old?” she said.
“Well, not very,” said mother, “but I was younger then.”
Mother had bought two square waterproof groundsheets, one for each tent. One of them was spread inside the tent that was being tried.
“You be careful,” said mother, “to keep the edges of the groundsheet inside the tent, or if it rains you’ll find yourselves sleeping in a puddle.”
Everybody crowded into the tent and sat down. Titty borrowed fat Vicky from nurse, and brought her in too. Susan shut the flaps of the tent from inside.
“We might be anywhere,” Titty said.
“Next time we put the tent up we shall be on the island,” said John.
“What about mattresses?” said mother.
“Rugs,” said Captain John.
“Not enough,” said mother, “unless you want to be like the lady who ran away with the wraggle-taggle gipsies and caught her death of cold.”