“I was going to wash them this afternoon,” said Archer humbly.
“Huh! don’t you know it’s twice as hard after you let them stand? Where’s the dishcloth?”
“Oh, come now, really, I won’t have you——”
She paid no attention to him. “What pretty dishes!” she said, as the hot water began to run.
“Five-and-ten cent store,” Archer laughed.
“Really? And they look much prettier than mine. Do you know, I think this is a dear little place.”
“Dishwashing is the worst part of it,” said the young man.
“Listen,” she told him. “Whenever the dishes have egg on them, don’t put the hot water on first. Watch me....”
She even insisted on rearranging his little closet of dishes. She cleaned the top of the gas range. Archer vainly tried to prevent her. She was singing now, as she worked. She straightened the pictures on the wall. She averred that she couldn’t be happy till she had swept the place from end to end.
After it was all over they sat down facing each other. There was a pink flush of satisfaction on her cheeks.