"Oh," she answered, "I don't know. But one can."
"Dost mean to say as it isn't clean, lass?"
"The brasses are very clean," said Helen.
Such astonishing virtuosity in the art of innuendo is the privilege of one sex only.
"Come into th' kitchen, lass," said James, after he had smiled into a corner of the room, "and take off them gloves and things."
"But, great-stepuncle, I can't stay."
"You'll stop for tea," said he, firmly, "or my name isn't James Ollerenshaw."
He preceded her into the kitchen. The door between the kitchen and the scullery was half-closed; in the aperture he again had a momentary, but distinct, glimpse of the eye of Mrs. Butt.
"I do like this room," said Helen, enthusiastically.
"Uninterrupted view o' th' back yard," said Ollerenshaw. "Sit ye down, lass."