But Conniston saw
that his face looked tired.
CHAPTER XV
At Conniston's knock Argyl's voice from somewhere in the back of the
cottage called "Come in!" He opened the door, went through the cozy
sitting-room, which was scarcely larger than the fire-place at the
range-house, and at a second invitation found his way into the rear
room. There an oil-stove was shooting up its yellow flames about a
couple of stew-pans, and there Argyl herself, in blue gingham apron,
her sleeves rolled up on her plump, white arms, was completing
preparations for the evening meal. She turned to nod to Conniston and
then back to her cooking.
"You'll find a chair in the corner," she told him, as he stopped in
the doorway, looking amusedly at her. "That is, of course, if you care
to call on the cook? Otherwise you will find cigars and a last month's
paper in the sitting-room."
"There isn't any otherwise," he laughed back at her. And after a
moment, in which she was very busy over the stove and he very content
to stand and watch her: "We're even now. Last time we were here I was
the hired man and tacked down carpets for you. Now I'm the guest of
the family, if you please, and you're the cook."
"You can have two cupfuls of water to wash your hands and one for your
face. You'll find the barrel and basin upon the back porch. And don't
throw the water away! I'll save it for you to use the next time you
come.
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