You can understand, however, that we are usually kept pretty busy from the moment we arrive till the hour we go away.
But this particular morning gardening was out of the question. The two girls started with the spring-cleaning on most vigorous lines. Virginia said the hygienic way was to place everything that was movable out-of-doors, so that, scientifically speaking, the sun’s rays could penetrate every fibre and tissue, and neutralise the harmful germs that would assuredly be lurking by the million in every stick and shred in a house as neglected as that one had been.
I objected to my cherished possessions being referred to as sticks and shreds, and I said so, with emphasis.
Ursula said if we were going to argue at that length it would be the August Bank Holiday before we got things back in their place again. For her part, she regarded all that germ-business as a harmless fairy-tale that was very suitable and safe reading for a mild intellect like Virginia’s. All the same, she quite agreed that everything ought to be put outside, so as to give more elbow-room indoors; moreover, things that were washed and scrubbed would, of course, dry quicker in the sun.
So out they all came!
Then we saw how badly the boards around the carpet needed re-staining, and we dispatched Virginia to the village to see what she could get in the way of oak or walnut floor-stain.
She returned with a large bottle of rheumatic lotion. Miss Jarvis, who keeps the village shop, hadn’t a bottle of stain left, but Virginia turned over everything she had and decided on the lotion, as it was thickish and a nice rich brown. She bore it off, Miss Jarvis beseeching her to remember it was for outward application only.
It wasn’t bad, only it flavoured the air rather strongly for days.
Ursula’s labours were bearing much fruit. To look at the scene outside the cottage, you might have thought a distraint had been made on the contents for rent. Chairs, tables, meat-safes, crockery, saucepans, oak chests, pictures, books, the warming-pan, brass candlesticks, coal-scuttles, fenders, were all basking unblushingly, and in the direst confusion, in the sunshine.
What pained me most was to notice how the furniture that had looked delightfully appropriate in the subdued lights of indoors, became appallingly shabby when subjected to the glare of day. I remarked that if I had confronted the things on a London burglar’s barrow, I should neither have recognised them nor have desired to claim them.