The Australian of the group, the poor woman from the Victorian-era and all of its fire-fighting technology (or rather, lack there of), shudders a little at the idea of fire. She's been worried about it, with the chimneys and boilers and ranges. What if, what if, what if.

"I agree. A fire here would be disastrous. But the butcher might just have what we need to really start storin' the mean. I've been tryin' a little with the oven, here, but it's hardly a large amount."

Then she takes in a deep breath.

"We've been given gifts, some of us. Mine was a box of salt. Not enough for everythin'. But we have some."