Bella makes it to the house without incident except for dampening the knees of her jeans on the ice.
In the house is a second beaver, sitting at a sewing machine with a thread in her mouth. She stops sewing as soon as the girls have entered. "So you've come at last!" she exclaims. "At last! To think I should have lived to see this day. The potatoes are boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay Mr. Beaver will get us some fish."
"That I will," agrees the beaver, and he goes back out again with a pail.
Bella sits down, looking around at the onions and hams hanging from the ceiling and the general not-a-century-of-winter-ness of the provisions available.
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In the house is a second beaver, sitting at a sewing machine with a thread in her mouth. She stops sewing as soon as the girls have entered. "So you've come at last!" she exclaims. "At last! To think I should have lived to see this day. The potatoes are boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay Mr. Beaver will get us some fish."
"That I will," agrees the beaver, and he goes back out again with a pail.
Bella sits down, looking around at the onions and hams hanging from the ceiling and the general not-a-century-of-winter-ness of the provisions available.