Martha nodded, and continued her search for that spot of dirt which her reason told her must be somewhere; but certainly it was not hiding there.

"There's four cows in full milk now, Martha. Cream's rich; isn't it?

Wait a moment."

"Where do you get your hot-water to scald the churn and things?" said Martha sharply, checking Brother William as he was moving towards the open door.

"There's a big byler in the kitchen," said Brother William, eager to make the best of things; and then, as Martha said no more, but went on with her dirt quest, he left the dairy, and came back directly after with an old-fashioned, much worn, silver tablespoon.

"I thought you wouldn't mind tasting the cream, Martha. This here is 'bout the freshest," he said, going to one of the broad shallow pans, inserting the spoon, which, Martha had seen at a glance, was beautifully clean, and gently drawing the cream sidewise, so that it crinkled all over, so thick was it and rich, and the spoon came out piled up as it were with the luscious produce of the little farm.

Martha's face was perfectly solemn, as she watched Brother William's acts, and she did not move a muscle till he spoke.

"Open your mouth," he said seriously--"Wide."

Martha obeyed, and did open her mouth--wide, for it was rather a large mouth; but the lips were well shaped and red, and the teeth within were even and white.

Brother William carefully placed the spoonful of cream within; and Martha closed her lips, solemnly imbibing the luscious spoonful, when, as a small portion was left visible at one corner, Brother William carefully removed it with an orange silk pocket-handkerchief; and Martha quietly said: "Thank you."

"Would you like to look at the cows now, or have tea?" said Brother William; whereupon Martha opined that it would be better to have tea, as f.a.n.n.y would be expecting them.

But f.a.n.n.y was evidently not expecting them, and did not come in until Martha had made the tea and cut the bread-and-b.u.t.ter, Brother William leaning his arms on the back of the big, well bees'-waxed Windsor chair, and gazing at her busy fingers, as she spread the yellow b.u.t.ter and cut a plateful of slices.

"Seems just as if you were doing it at home," said Brother William; "only it looks nicer here."

Then f.a.n.n.y was summoned, and Martha made way for her to preside at the tea-tray.

"No; you'd better pour out," the girl said absently. "I'd rather sit here."

"Here" was where she could see through the open window out into the road; and there she sat while the meal was discussed, little attention being paid to her by her brother, who divided his time between eating heartily himself, and pressing slices of ham upon Martha, who took her place in the most matter-of-fact way, and supplied her host's wants, which were frequent, as the teacups were very small. In fact, so occupied with their meal were Brother William and Martha, that they did not notice a slow, deliberate step in the road, pa.s.sing evidently down the lane; neither did they see that f.a.n.n.y's face, as she bent lower over her cup, became deeply suffused, and that she did not look up till the step had died away, when she uttered a low sigh, as if a burden had been removed from her breast.

After that, though, they did notice that she became brighter and more willing to enter into conversation, seeming at last to take quite an interest in her brother's account of the loss of a sheep through its getting upside down in a ditch; and she also expressed a feeling of satisfaction upon hearing that hay would fetch a good price in the autumn, so many people having had theirs spoiled.

"Never mind me," said f.a.n.n.y, as soon as, between them, she and Martha had put away the tea-things: "I shall go into the garden and look round."

Brother William evidently did not mind her, for, in his slow deliberate way, he took off Martha to introduce her to the cows; after which she had to sc.r.a.pe acquaintance with the pigs, visit the poultry, who were somewhat disturbed, inasmuch as they were settling themselves in the positions that they were to occupy for the night, and made no little outcry in consequence. Then there were the sheep; and there was last year's haystack, and this year's, both of which had to be smelt, Brother William pulling out a good handful from each, to show Martha that there was not a trace of damp in either. This done, a happy thought seemed to strike Brother William, who turned to Martha and exclaimed: "I wonder whether you could churn?"

"Let's try," said Martha, with the air of one who would have made the same answer if it had been the question of making a steam-engine or a watch.

Brother William gave one of his legs a vigorous slap, and marched Martha back into the house, through into the dairy. Then he fetched a can of hot-water to rinse out and warm the churn. There was a pot of lumpy cream already waiting, and this was carefully poured in, the lid duly replaced, with the addition of a cloth, to keep the cream from splashing out, and then he stood and watched Martha, who was busily pinning up her dress all round. She then turned up her sleeves and took out a clean pocket-handkerchief, which she folded by laying one corner across to the other, and then tied it over her head and under her chin, making her pleasant comely face look so provocative, that Brother William drew a long breath, took a step forward, and was going to catch Martha in his arms; but he recollected himself in time, gave a slew round, and caught hold of the churn handle instead, and this he began to turn steadily round and round, as if intending to play a tune.

"I thought _I_ was to make it," said Martha quietly.

"Oh, ah, yes, of course," he said, resigning the handle; and then he drew back, as if it was not safe for him to stand there and watch, while Martha steadily turned and turned, and the cream within the snowy white sycamore box went "wish-wash, wish-wash, wish-wash," playing, after all, a very delicious tune in the young farmer's ears, for it suggested yellow b.u.t.ter, and yellow b.u.t.ter suggested sovereigns, and sovereigns suggested borne comforts and savings, and above all, the turning of that handle suggested the winning of just the very wife to occupy that home.

Five minutes, and there was a glow of colour in Martha's cheeks. Five minutes more, and the colour was in her brow as well.

"You are tired now," said Brother William. "Let me turn."

"No; I mean to make it," she replied, tightening her lips and turning steadily away.

Another five minutes, and there was a very red spot on Martha's chin, and her lips were apart; but she turned away, with Brother William quite rapt in admiration at the patient perseverance displayed; and in fact, if it had been a question of another hour, Martha would have kept on turning till she dropped. She did not speak, neither did Brother William; but his admiration increased. Their eyes never met, for Martha's were fixed steadfastly upon one particular red-brick; not that it was dirty, for it was of a brighter red than the others; and she turned and turned, first with one hand, then with the other, till there was a change in the "wish-wash, wish-wash" in the churn, and then Brother William exclaimed: "That's done it! b.u.t.ter!"

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Martha, with a heavy sigh, and her breath came all the faster for the exertion.

"Look at it!" cried Brother William, taking the lid off the churn. "Can you see?"

Martha was rather short; hence, perhaps, it was that Brother William placed his arm round her waist to raise her slightly; and he was not looking at the b.u.t.ter, and Martha was not looking at it either, but up at him, as he bent down a little lower, and somehow, without having had the slightest intention of doing so the moment before, Brother William gave Martha a very long and solemn kiss.

She shrank away from him the next moment, and looked up at him reproachfully. "You shouldn't," she said. "It's so wrong."

"Is it?" he said dolefully. "I'm very sorry. I couldn't help it, Martha. You made the b.u.t.ter so beautifully. Don't be cross."

"I'm not cross," she said, untying the handkerchief, and then proceeding to take out the pins from her dress, holding them between her lips, points outwards; "only you mustn't do so again."

Brother William said: "Well, I won't;" and then, as the pins were taken from Martha's red lips--so great is the falsity of man--he bent down and let his lips take the place of the pins, and Martha said never a word.

"Joe's wife said yesterday that she didn't mean to come and do for me much longer," said Brother William suddenly.

"Why not?" said Martha.

"Because she said I'd best ask you."

"And are you going to ask me, William?"

"Yes. When will you come altogether?" he said softly.

Martha glanced round once more, as if in search of that spot of dirt which would keep eluding her search. Then she raised her eyes to Brother William's shirt front with a triumphant flash, feeling sure that she would see a b.u.t.ton off, or a worn hole; but there was neither; and when she turned her eyes upon his hands, the wristbands were not a bit frayed.

"I don't know," she said dubiously. "Do you want me to come?"

He nodded, and they went out of the dairy into the sitting room.

"I'll tell f.a.n.n.y," he said. "I hope she'll be pleased."

But f.a.n.n.y was not there; and when they went into the garden, she was not there either, nor yet in the orchard.

"She must have gone down the lane," said Brother William--"down towards the river. Let's go and see."

They went out together, with Martha making no scruple now about holding on by Brother William's st.u.r.dy arm. But though they walked nearly down to the river, f.a.n.n.y was not there.

"She'll be cross, and think we neglected her," said Martha. "I am sorry we went away."

"I'm not," said Brother William, trying to be facetious for the second time that evening. "We've made half a dozen pounds o' b.u.t.ter, and a match."

Martha shook her head.

"Let's go back and see if she went up to the wood," cried Brother William.