"Only this, my Princess, that you must turn the crank that this animal is agitating, with your own small hands, if you persist in your resolution to help with the churning."
Millicent's face fell; and Galbraith hastened to explain to her that the quantity of cream handled at one churning made it necessary, in a place where human labor is so dear, to employ horsepower. Nobody likes to be laughed at, though Millicent tried hard to smile at her own blunder; when Hal, suddenly calling out; "By your leave, Princess," without a word of warning caught up the young lady in his arms, and placed her on the back of the patient mule, remarking, as he accomplished the feat, "No one can say now that you have not helped with the churning."
It would be difficult to say whether Millicent or the mule felt the greater surprise; they were both taken unawares; but the quadruped was the first to recover himself, and resumed his weary task of plodding round in the monotonous circle. Millicent, clinging closely to the creature, cried loudly to be relieved from her uncomfortable position; but Hal, fearing her wrath, had disappeared into the interior of the dairy, leaving to Galbraith the pleasure of assisting the young woman in dismounting. Pedro, who had been an amused spectator of the scene, now announced that the churning was completed, and that they should soon see the washing of the butter, if it pleased them to wait. The big golden fragments were collected from the sea of buttermilk, and finally massed together on a wide table. There it was worked by Pedro, who tossed the fragrant mass from side to side, pressing out the remaining deposits of the milk with a heavy wooden wand. He moulded the butter into fantastic forms, prettiest of which was a huge bell-shaped flower like a giant trumpet blossom. It struck Millicent that here was a delightful material for modelling; and taking up a piece of butter and one of the dairy tools, she forthwith produced a bas-relief portrait of Galbraith, which would have done credit to the sculptress of the sleeping Iolanthe.
"There are two classes of hands, those which are skilful and those which are clumsy; of all other divisions of humanity this is the most important. You, Miss Almsford, are so happy as to belong to the skilful half, or rather quarter, of humanity,--for men are all clumsy. I see that you can do all things artistic as well as useful with your fingers."
"I am afraid I have never tried to do much that was useful," said the girl half ruefully. "Barbara, now, can do all sorts of things. But I am tired of comparing myself with her; I always suffer by the process;" this with a rather vicious little stroke at the butter-model, which she was now finishing into a medallion, with a pattern of scroll-work for a border.
"Let me judge between yourself and Miss Barbara. I know that she can touch the ivory keys with grace, and can also make wonderful peach preserves. On the other hand, you model in butter and--and--well, what else can those small hands accomplish of art or industry?"
"They can draw a little as well as model; they can trim bonnets, yes, really quite well; they are not unfamiliar with the key-boards of piano and organ; and, best of all,--I had really forgotten to enumerate this accomplishment,--they can move tables and chairs; they can draw pain from your head; they can put you into a trance,--they are, in fact, magnetic hands."
"It seems, then, that you are a Spiritualist."
"Far from it; by what power I do the few things which form the repertoire of my manifestations, as the mediums call them, I do not know any more than you."
"Will you give me a séance?"