Polly.
V.
That part of Miss Forsythe’s conversation overheard by Mr. Robert Fairfax.
To Mrs. Nannie Simms:—I always use a kitchen knife. Don’t grin like a dog. Billy said it was inane, but I didn’t care, for the result was just as good as his. You see we had no end of fun experimenting with all sorts of things. The ranch was twenty miles from the nearest town, and I ‘got my hand in’ at almost everything from cooking to carpentering. We even painted the house in the most artistic style, mixing our own colors. It was such fun, ladling up little dabs of paint from a circle of cans, and stirring up the mixture. We were trying to get a red like the cover of my prayer book. And we did it, too. We had only one kind of wall paper, and it required ‘treatment.’ It was a pretty bluish gray, with scraggly daisies on it. We painted one room in olive green, floors and woodwork, and that killed out all the blue, and gave us a gray and green apartment. And another room, painted in dark brown, brought out the blue and gave us a blue room.
Then the cooking was a great picnic. You see the most I’d ever done was to stir up the ingredients of cake, according to Miss Parloa and Mrs. Lincoln, and then—the cook baked them. What I wanted to learn was how to get a dinner for a hungry man. Billy was a perfect saint. You can’t imagine what blunders I made, with no one to give any help. But I’d wade through it all again to know what I know now, and Billy says I’m a better cook than mother.
One day we had a narrow escape from a tragedy. An accident on the railroad had delayed our supplies a week. Meantime we had to live off the country, and such things as we could get at ‘the store.’ Well, I was going to have fish-balls for dinner—Billy loves them. I didn’t know how codfish shrinks, and I put on what I thought was enough, and when it came out of the water it had wizzled up into a little worm. However, it made six fish-balls, and I thought we were all right, but when Billy walked in,—brotherlike—without warning, with Mr. Adams, of Boston,—did you know about his coming out to the ranch?—I had what Mrs. Stearns used to call “an inward spasm.” I made a mental inventory of the contents of the pantry while I was expressing my joy at meeting Mr. Adams—it was a joy, too,—and I thought of “the woman who hesitates.” I went into the kitchen and put those six fish-balls—they weren’t fried—back into the bowl, and mixed them all up together. Then I made them over into nine, just as big round, but thin to the point of emaciation. In the hen house I found five nice fresh eggs, and I fried these, and “garnished” the platter of fish-balls. And we had potatoes, and good bread and butter, and coffee, and I really believe Mr. Adams thought he had a fine dinner. He said the meal was a “taste of Boston.” We went hunting the next day, and Billy shot a wild turkey, and that time we did have a dinner. Billy was quite proud of my shooting. He taught me to use a rifle, and we had fine times together. Then the evenings were delightful, sitting in front of our great fireplace, and reading aloud; and afterwards music by the firelight. It was just as nice after Billy married and Carrie came. She fitted in beautifully, and they are very happy. And the twins are darlings, the sweetest things. Really, if I begin on them I shall talk till night, and you must be tired to death now. Let’s walk towards home.
Oh! I—I turned my foot. It’s all right now. Come along—this way—there! Give me your hand; that’s it. I was just going to say that—
VI.
Mrs. Arthur Selbourne’s good-night remarks.