The afternoon was spent in arranging our apartments. For convenience
sake, we decided to close part of the chateau and all live as near
together as possible in one wing. The children and younger servants
seemed to consider the whole as a huge joke--or rather, a prolonged
picnic party, and the house rang with peals of jolly laughter.

Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled the provisions which were
piled high on the table in the servants' hall. A visit to the storeroom
and a little calculation showed that there were sufficient groceries
already on hand to last the month out.

"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll divide into three even parts
--that makes September, October and November assured. By that time
we'll know what precautions to take!"

"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling reply. And we set to work.
It all recalled the days of my childhood when I used to play at
housekeeping and would measure out on the scales of my dolls' house so
much rice, so much flour, so much macaroni, etc. I could hardly believe
I was in earnest.

We were right in the midst of our task when our gardeners appeared
bearing between them a clothes basket full of plums.

"Madame, they can't wait a day longer. They're ready to cook now."

It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for we were already as busy as we
could be. But there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would be
spoiled.