"Mr. Holcroft," she asked very gravely, "will you do something for me?" "Yes, half a dozen things." "You promise?" "Certainly! What's the trouble?" "I don't mean there shall be any if I can help it," she answered with a light ripple of laughter. "Please go and put on your coat." "How you've humbugged me! It's too hot." "Oh, you've got to do it; you promised. You can't stay here unless you do." "So you are going to take care of me as if I were a small boy?" "You need care--sometimes." He soon came back and asked, "Now may I stay?" "Yes. Please untie the dog. Butter's come." "I should think it would, or anything else at your coaxing." "Oh-h, what a speech! Hasn't that a pretty golden hue?" she asked, holding up a mass of the butter she was ladling from the churn into a wooden tray. "Yes, you are making the gilt-edge article now. I don't have to sell it to Tom Watterly any more." "I'd like to give him some, though." He was silent, and something like sudden rage burned in his heart that Mrs. Watterly would not permit the gift. That anyone should frown on his having such a helper as Alida was proving herself to be, made him vindictive. Fortunately her face was turned away, and she did not see his heavy frown. Then, to shield her from a disagreeable fact, he said quickly, "do you know that for over a year I steadily went behind my expenses. And that your butter making has turned the tide already? I'm beginning to get ahead again." "I'm SO glad," and her face was radiant. "Yes, I should know that from your looks. It's clearer every day that I got the best of our bargain. I never dreamed, though, that I should enjoy your society as I do--that we should become such very good friends. That wasn't in the bargain, was it?" "Bargain!" The spirited way with which she echoed the word, as if thereby repudiating anything like a sordid side to their mutual relations, was not lost on her wondering and admiring partner. She checked herself suddenly. "Now let me teach YOU how to make butter," and with the tray in her lap, she began washing the golden product and pressing out the milk. He laughed in a confused delighted way at her piquant, half saucy manner as he watched her deft round arm and shapely hand. "The farmers' wives in Oakville would say your hands were too little to do much." "They would?" and she raised her blue eyes indignantly to his. "No matter, you are the one to say about that." "I say they do too much. I shall have to get Jane to help you." "By all means! Then you'll have more society." "That was a home shot. You know how I dote on everybody's absence, even Jane's." "You dote on butter. See how firm and yellow it's getting. You wouldn't think it was milk-white cream a little while ago, would you? Now I'll put in the salt and you must taste it, for you're a connoisseur." "A what?" "Judge, then." "You know a sight more than I do, Alida." "I'm learning all the time." "So am I--to appreciate you."