“How do you do?” she said, “I have come to ask if Taffy may go fishing with me.”
Except in church, and outside the porch for a formal word or two, Humility and Honoria had never met. This was Honoria’s first visit to the Parsonage, and the sight of the clean kitchen and shining pots and pans filled her with wonder. Humility shook hands and made a silent note of the child’s frock, which was torn and wanted brushing.
“He may go, and thank you. It’s lonely for him here, very often.”
“I suppose,” said Honoria gravely, “I ought to have called before. I wish—” She was about to say that she wished Humility would come to Tredinnis. But her eyes wandered to the orderly dresser and the scalding-pans by the fireplace.
“I mean—if Taffy had a sister it would be different.”
Humility bent to lift a kettle off the fire. When she faced round again, her eyes were smiling though her lip trembled a little.
“How bright you keep everything here!” said Honoria.
“There’s plenty of sand to scour with; it’s bad for the garden though.”
“Don’t you grow any flowers?”
“I planted a few pansies the first year; they came from my home up in Devonshire. But the sand covered them. It covers everything.” She smiled, and asked suddenly, “May I kiss you?”