Part 11 (1/2)

”Slang again! Five cents more towards the amus.e.m.e.nt fund.”

”Oh, we shall not want any more amus.e.m.e.nt fund if you are going to turn worker, Princess.” As he spoke they entered the cool dairy. It was tenantless. At one end of the room stood a large wooden vessel, half as big as the Trojan horse, and from its hollow sides came a dull, splas.h.i.+ng sound.

”Why, you said they would be at work already,” said Millicent, in a disappointed voice; ”where are they all?”

”Oh, it only takes one man to attend to this part of the b.u.t.ter-making, and there he is at his post.”

Outside the open doorway, as wide as the entrance to a barn, sat Pedro, lazily smoking his pipe, and occasionally flicking with his whip the strong mule who was slowly revolving round the small s.p.a.ce to which he was tethered.

”Well,” said Millicent impatiently, ”what does that mean?”

”Only this, my Princess, that you must turn the crank that this animal is agitating, with your own small hands, if you persist in your resolution to help with the churning.”

Millicent's face fell; and Galbraith hastened to explain to her that the quant.i.ty of cream handled at one churning made it necessary, in a place where human labor is so dear, to employ horsepower. n.o.body likes to be laughed at, though Millicent tried hard to smile at her own blunder; when Hal, suddenly calling out; ”By your leave, Princess,” without a word of warning caught up the young lady in his arms, and placed her on the back of the patient mule, remarking, as he accomplished the feat, ”No one can say now that you have not helped with the churning.”

It would be difficult to say whether Millicent or the mule felt the greater surprise; they were both taken unawares; but the quadruped was the first to recover himself, and resumed his weary task of plodding round in the monotonous circle. Millicent, clinging closely to the creature, cried loudly to be relieved from her uncomfortable position; but Hal, fearing her wrath, had disappeared into the interior of the dairy, leaving to Galbraith the pleasure of a.s.sisting the young woman in dismounting. Pedro, who had been an amused spectator of the scene, now announced that the churning was completed, and that they should soon see the was.h.i.+ng of the b.u.t.ter, if it pleased them to wait. The big golden fragments were collected from the sea of b.u.t.termilk, and finally ma.s.sed together on a wide table. There it was worked by Pedro, who tossed the fragrant ma.s.s from side to side, pressing out the remaining deposits of the milk with a heavy wooden wand. He moulded the b.u.t.ter into fantastic forms, prettiest of which was a huge bell-shaped flower like a giant trumpet blossom. It struck Millicent that here was a delightful material for modelling; and taking up a piece of b.u.t.ter and one of the dairy tools, she forthwith produced a bas-relief portrait of Galbraith, which would have done credit to the sculptress of the sleeping Iolanthe.

”There are two cla.s.ses of hands, those which are skilful and those which are clumsy; of all other divisions of humanity this is the most important. You, Miss Almsford, are so happy as to belong to the skilful half, or rather quarter, of humanity,--for men are all clumsy. I see that you can do all things artistic as well as useful with your fingers.”

”I am afraid I have never tried to do much that was useful,” said the girl half ruefully. ”Barbara, now, can do all sorts of things. But I am tired of comparing myself with her; I always suffer by the process;”

this with a rather vicious little stroke at the b.u.t.ter-model, which she was now finis.h.i.+ng into a medallion, with a pattern of scroll-work for a border.

”Let me judge between yourself and Miss Barbara. I know that she can touch the ivory keys with grace, and can also make wonderful peach preserves. On the other hand, you model in b.u.t.ter and--and--well, what else can those small hands accomplish of art or industry?”

”They can draw a little as well as model; they can trim bonnets, yes, really quite well; they are not unfamiliar with the key-boards of piano and organ; and, best of all,--I had really forgotten to enumerate this accomplishment,--they can move tables and chairs; they can draw pain from your head; they can put you into a trance,--they are, in fact, magnetic hands.”

”It seems, then, that you are a Spiritualist.”

”Far from it; by what power I do the few things which form the _repertoire_ of my manifestations, as the mediums call them, I do not know any more than you.”

”Will you give me a _seance_?”

”Indeed; no.”

”And because--”

”Because it tires me, and I am rather afraid of my own power. Some one once compared me to a child who had got hold of an electric battery which he did not understand, and with which he unwittingly produced inexplicable phenomena, not devoid of danger to himself.”

”You are really in earnest then, and believe in these manifestations?”

”Perfectly so; and I am rather cowardly about exploring them to their source, as I have seen so many strong minds unhinged by study of this subject. I certainly object to the vulgar theory, that the spirits of those who have gone before us have nothing better to do than to tip tables and dip their hands in pails of paraffine which accommodating mediums prepare for them.”

”You do not believe in mediums, then?”

”I believe no manifestation to be genuine which comes from a professional medium. That they often have real power, I do not doubt; but so soon as it is a question of earning their living, they must inevitably fall back upon fraud. But we are growing quite serious about this subject which I never like to talk of for fear of being misunderstood.”

”But I am really interested in what you say--”

”Never mind; here is your portrait, which is not flattered, I frankly confess; but is it a little like you?”

”If I know my face at all, it is wonderfully good. Would that you had deigned to model it in a less perishable material!”