“Mine own fair hands shall do the deed—in gloves, however, for I know those books of old, and shall smother myself in sheets before I begin. I don’t object to a few days’ charing for a change,” said Nan briskly. “I love rushing about in an apron, using my muscles instead of my brain, gathering all the ornaments together, and washing them in a nice soapy bath—”
“And watching the water get dirty! Isn’t it lovely?” gushed Agatha enthusiastically. “It isn’t a bit interesting when they are only a little bit soiled. I like figures and things with lots of creases where the dust gets in, and you have to scrub away with a nail-brush, and the water gets black—perfectly black! It’s lovely!”
Every one laughed, even Mrs Rendell, though she felt in duty bound to protest at the idea of anything being “black” in her well-kept house; and the girls proceeded to sing the joys of spring-cleaning with youthful fervour.
“What I like best are the picnic meals,” said Chrissie. “We always have the same things for lunch—a round of cold salt beef and beetroot, and coffee, and bread and jam. It is all put on the table at once, and we all carve for ourselves, and march about the room with aprons on, and behave as badly as we like. Then we have tea about three, and cold meat again for dinner, and fruit instead of pudding, and are all so stiff that we can hardly move, and all fighting to have the first hot bath. The water gets cold after the second, so it’s a great thing to be first, if you can.”
“And there are such amusing contretemps!” said Maud, the good-natured. “There seems to be a special imp of mischief abroad at these times, for something is bound to go wrong. You can’t guard against it, for it is always the last thing you could expect, and it happens at the worst moment, and in some extraordinary manner stops all the wheels of the machinery. It is really excruciatingly funny—”
“You don’t think so at the time! When Agatha knocked a nail into the gas-pipe on Thursday afternoon, when the shops were closed, and all the men had gone off to a beanfeast, you didn’t think it much of a joke then!” said Elsie darkly. “We tried leaving the nail in and smearing the hole with soap, but the gas came out in gusts, and we had to turn it off, and there were only two candles in the house. ... We sat all evening in the dark, and undressed together in one room, because we were obliged to give the servants one of the candles. It wasn’t in the least funny, and you didn’t think so either.”
“Oh, I don’t know! It gave us a rest, which we wanted badly, and it is amusing to think of afterwards. I’ve often thought of it, and laughed to myself,”—and Maud laughed again, the happy, kindly laugh which was the outward sign of a sweet-hearted nature.
Altogether it was a very cheerful little party of workers whom the parents left behind when the hour for departure arrived. It was a bright, inspiriting spring morning, just one of the days when it is delightful to start off on the first holiday of the year, and Mr and Mrs Rendell looked fully appreciative of the fact. He was attired in a new suit, while his wife, not to be outdone, had provided herself with a pretty blue coat and skirt, and a flowered toque which was perhaps a trifle more summery than the season justified. After twenty-five years of married life, it was still a delight to this husband and wife to steal off for a holiday by themselves, and Mrs Rendell took the same delight in her husband’s approval as when she had first become his wife. Every detail of her attire was daintily correct, and so pretty did she look, so trig and smart, that her six big daughters stared at her in admiration.
“Perfectly s–weet!” was Chrissie’s verdict; then her eyes passed on to her handsome, stalwart father, and a twinkle of amusement showed in her eyes. “They both do! And so spick and span—everything new from head to foot. They might be a newly-married couple—a trifle elderly, but ve–ry well preserved! I shouldn’t wonder if people thought they were. How would it be if we hid a little rice?—”
“Happy thought! A most delicate attention. Keep them talking for a few minutes while I pay a visit to the kitchen,” cried Nan, deftly nipping up the roll of umbrellas, and disappearing from the hall, to return with the meekest of meek faces, and bid a fond adieu to the parents for whose confusion she had been planning.