The San Rosario Ranch
mother and sister standing near by, as if to say that the joke was too
good to be spoiled, followed her, with Tip, the cross old dog, following
him in turn.
"Millicent, did you ever do any churning?"
"No, but I can learn."
"Without doubt; but tell me, did you ever see any one else churn?"
"Oh, yes; very often."
"Who, if one may ask?"
"You will not know any better if I tell you. It was old Nina, at home."
"Ah, old Nina; and what sort of a machine did she use?"
"She did not use a machine at all; she used a churn, like anybody else."
"What did it look like?"
"I am sure I have forgotten; it was probably an old-fashioned one, but
it made quite as good butter as _yours_ does;" this in a slightly
irritated voice. She objected to being catechised, and had, moreover, a
dim sense that Deering was bent on quizzing her. She ran along the
footpath in advance in order to avoid further questioning, and reached
the dairy a few minutes before him. Finding the main door shut, she
hurried round to the side, when, just as she turned the corner, her
rapid progress was suddenly brought to an end. She had met an obstacle;
she had, moreover, fallen into the arms of the obstacle, which proved to
be a tall man with a kindly voice, for he called out merrily, "Hello, my
girl, where are you going so fast?" steadying her at the same moment
with his arm, as the sudden shock almost precipitated her from the path.
Millicent drew back disconcerted and breathless, and looked up into the
face of the man whom she had so unexpectedly encountered. When she saw
that it was a face familiar to her, she blushed and stammered a little
as she replied to his astonished greeting. Mutual apologies and
explanations followed; and Hal, coming up at that moment, laughed at her
discomfiture till the tears rolled down his face.
"You always laugh at other people's misfortunes," cried Millicent,
trying to be angry; but it was impossible to be angry with Hal. The
irrepressible young rancher carried the day; and Maurice Galbraith
assured Millicent that it was his awkwardness which had aroused
Deering's merriment.
"We are very glad to see you, Galbraith, but we are too busy to stop and
talk to you just now. You will find mother and Bab at the house. I have
a new hand here who is going to take charge of the churning in future,
and I am just showing her about a little. Do you catch on?"
"Slang again! Five cents more towards the amusement fund."
"Oh, we shall not want any more amusement fund if you are going to turn
worker, Princess." As he spoke they entered the cool dairy. It was
tenantless. At one end of the room stood a large wooden vessel, half as
big as the Trojan horse, and from its hollow sides came a dull,
splashing sound.
"Why, you said they would be at work already," said Millicent, in a
disappointed voice; "where are they all?"
"Oh, it only takes one man to attend to this part of the butter-making,
and there he is at his post."
Outside the open doorway, as wide as the entrance to a barn, sat Pedro,
lazily smoking his pipe, and occasionally flicking with his whip the
strong mule who was slowly revolving round the small space to which he
was tethered.
"Well," said Millicent impatiently, "what does that mean?"
"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 _seance_?"
"Indeed; no."
"And because--"
"Because it tires me, and I am rather afraid of my own power. Some one
once compared me to a child who had got hold of an electric battery
which he did not understand, and with which he unwittingly produced
inexplicable phenomena, not devoid of danger to himself."
"You are really in earnest then, and believe in these manifestations?"
"Perfectly so; and I am rather cowardly about exploring them to their
source, as I have seen so many strong minds unhinged by study of this
subject. I certainly object to the vulgar theory, that the spirits of
those who have gone before us have nothing better to do than to tip
tables and dip their hands in pails of paraffine which accommodating
mediums prepare for them."
"You do not believe in mediums, then?"
"I believe no manifestation to be genuine which comes from a
professional medium. That they often have real power, I do not doubt;
but so soon as it is a question of earning their living, they must
inevitably fall back upon fraud. But we are growing quite serious about
this subject which I never like to talk of for fear of being
misunderstood."
"But I am really interested in what you say--"
"Never mind; here is your portrait, which is not flattered, I frankly
confess; but is it a little like you?"
"If I know my face at all, it is wonderfully good. Would that you had
deigned to model it in a less perishable material!"
"Oh, no! this is infinitely better, it is so much more appropriate--
"Thanks for the compliment; but why, if I may ask, should you consider
butter to be particularly suitable to me?"
"Not to you personally, but to humanity. Is it not stupid to carve
bronze fac-similes of that which is as perishable as the grass?"
"But had it not been for this stupidity, how should we know the features
of Caesar?"
"And would it greatly matter?"
"I think so; but a young lady who so cruelly assures me that butter is
the only material in which my humble features deserve to be
reproduced--"
Millicent interrupted the speaker by her pleasant laugh, with its sound
of falling waters, and thanking Pedro for what he had shown her, led the
way from the dairy. She refused to speak further on the subject during
the day-time, but as they sat together on the piazza in the twilight,
Galbraith referred to it again; and, after much persuasion, Millicent
seated herself at a table, round which the company grouped themselves,
placing their hands lightly on its surface. Barbara, who was seated next
to Millicent, their hands touching one another, seemed strangely
affected, after they had been sitting for some time in silence. She
manifested unmistakable signs of sleepiness, and finally, with a long
sigh, her eyes closed and her head fell upon Millicent's shoulder. With
a little frightened cry, Millicent quickly lifted her, and making
several passes over her head called Hal to come and support his sister.
In a moment Barbara recovered herself, and showed no more symptoms of
sleep. She laughed heartily, and said that a peculiar sensation in her
elbows had preceded her momentary unconsciousness. Galbraith applauded
the little episode, which he assured Millicent was very well acted by
both participants. The girl turned her eyes, deep and burning, full upon
him, half in anger, and said,--
"Very well, Mr. Galbraith, we will see if you can act a part as well as
Barbara. Lay your hand in mine--so."
The young man smiled, and did as he was bid, with a courteous bow, as if
deprecating the power in which he did not believe; and for a space of
time they stood looking each other full in the face. Then Millicent's
slight form seemed to vibrate, and from her eyes a light flashed into
the man's dark orbs, her cheek flushed, and from every nerve in her body
an electric flash seemed to emanate, concentrating into a broad current
at the shoulder, and slipping through the round white arm to the very
finger-tips. Galbraith's face paled as hers flushed; a stinging
sensation half painful, half agreeable, made him wince; and when in a
few moments Millicent withdrew her hand, he remained standing
motionless, white to the lips, with dim, dreaming eyes, and slow-beating
heart.
"Speak," said the magnetizer, "tell me what is in your mind?"
"There is nothing," answered the man, in a low, monotonous voice.
"Now speak, and tell me what you see."
"I see a man on horseback; the horse is running away. Now he gallops,
and the rider loses control of him; they disappear in a cloud of dust,
and I see nothing. Now they return; the horse is going quietly, and the
rider looks towards a carriage in which sits a lady; it is Millicent.
He enters the carriage; she is weeping, and he touches--" he paused.
Millicent's cheek had grown crimson. She said in a low tone,--
"Why do you not continue?"