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! Butter!”
“Hah!” ejaculated 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 butter, 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 butter 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.”