“I’ve already done an hour,” he said, “and I’ll have time for another before lunch. I can get in the other two before dark, and then [Pg 40]I’m going for a walk. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” [Pg 40] “You haven’t asked me properly,” she objected. Irving bowed and, in set, gallant phrases, asked Miss Temple for “the pleasure of her company.” “I’m sorry,” she answered, “but I’m obliged to refuse. I’m going to make some little cakes for tea—the kind you like.” “Bother the cakes!” “Then,” laughed Iris, “if you want me as much as that, I’ll go. It’s my Christian duty.” From the very beginning, Aunt Peace had taught Iris the principles of dainty housewifery. Cleanliness came first—an exquisite cleanliness which was not merely a lack of dust and dirt, but a positive quality. When the old lady’s keen eyes, reinforced by her strongest glasses, were unable to discern so much as a finger mark upon anything, Iris knew that it was clean, and not before. At first, the little untrained child had bitterly rebelled, but Miss Field’s patience was without limit and at last Iris attained the required degree of proficiency. She had done [Pg 41]her sampler, like the Colonial maids before her, made her white, sweet loaves, her fragrant brown ones, put up her countless pots of clear, rich preserves, made amber and crimson jellies, huge jars of spiced fruits, and brewed ten different kinds of home-made wine. Then, and not till then, Iris got the womanly idea which was beneath it all. Perception came slowly, but at length she found herself in a beautiful comradeship with Aunt Peace. For sheer love of the daintiness of it, Iris beat the yolks of eggs in a white bowl and the whites in a blue one. She took pleasure out of various fine textures and feathery masses, sang as she shaped small pats of unsalted butter, tying them up in clover blossoms, and laughed at the little packets of seeds Dame Nature sends with her parcels. [Pg 41] “See,” said Iris, one morning, as she cut a juicy muskmelon and took out the seeds, “this means that if you like it well enough to work and wait, you can have lots, lots more.” Miss Field smiled, and a soft pink colour came into her fine, high-bred face. For one, at least, she had opened the way to the Fortunate Isles, where one’s daily
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