Millicent, having learned the earliest stage of butter-making under Hal's direction, wished to be initiated into the mysteries which follow the skimming of the cream. Hal gave one of his boisterous guffaws of laughter when she one morning gravely informed him that she was going to help in that day's churning. She had donned the prettiest chintz morning gown imaginable, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and a fresh white apron. Her skirt was kilted up half way to the knee, showing a scarlet petticoat, which in turn exposed the pretty, small feet, and possibly two inches more of the round ankle than is usually shown by ladies of her degree. Tying one of the great picturesque hats which they had brought home from San Real, under her chin, the energetic young woman started for the dairy. Hal, giving a knowing wink to his mother and sister standing near by, as if to say that the joke was too good to be spoiled, followed her, with Tip, the cross old dog, following him in turn.
"Millicent, did you ever do any churning?"
"No, but I can learn."
"Without doubt; but tell me, did you ever see any one else churn?"
"Oh, yes; very often."
"Who, if one may ask?"
"You will not know any better if I tell you. It was old Nina, at home."
"Ah, old Nina; and what sort of a machine did she use?"
"She did not use a machine at all; she used a churn, like anybody else."
"What did it look like?"