"Tell me about it," begged Winfield, who was enjoying himself hugely.
"The stove was to be set into the wall," began Ruth, "and surrounded
with marble and white tiling, or, if this was too expensive, it was to
be hidden from view by a screen of Japanese silk. A nice oak settle,
hand carved, which 'the young husband might make in his spare moments,'
was to be placed in front of it, and there were to be plate racks and
shelves on the walls, to hold the rare china. Charming kitchen!"
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone like stars. "You're an
awfully funny girl," said Winfield, quietly, "to fly into a passion
over a 'transformed kitchen' that you never saw. Why don't you save your
temper for real things?"
She looked at him, meaningly, and he retreated in good order. "I think
I'm a tactful person," he continued, hurriedly, "because I get on so
well with you. Most of the time, we're as contented as two kittens in a
basket."
"My dear Mr. Winfield," returned Ruth, pleasantly, "you're not only
tactful, but modest. I never met a man whose temperament so nearly
approached the unassuming violet. I'm afraid you'll never be appreciated
in this world--you're too good for it. You must learn to put yourself
forward. I expect it will be a shock to your sensitive nature, but it's
got to be done."
"Thank you," he laughed. "I wish we were in town now, and I'd begin
to put myself forward by asking you out to dinner and afterward to the
theatre."
"Why don't you take me out to dinner here?" she asked.
"I wouldn't insult you by offering you the 'Widder's' cooking. I mean a
real dinner, with striped ice cream at the end of it."
"I'll go," she replied, "I can't resist the blandishments of striped ice
cream."
"Thank you again; that gives me courage to speak of something that has
lain very near my heart for a long time."
"Yes?" said Ruth, conventionally. For the moment she was frightened.
"I've been thinking fondly of your chafing-dish, though I haven't been
allowed to see it yet, and I suppose there's nothing in the settlement
to cook in it, is there?"
"Nothing much, surely."
"We might have some stuff sent out from the city, don't you think so?"
"Canned things?"
"Yes--anything that would keep."
Aided and abetted by Winfield, she made out a list of articles which
were unknown to the simple-minded inhabitants of the village.
"I'll attend to the financial part of it," he said, pocketing the list,
"and then, my life will be in your hands."
After he went away, Ruth wished she knew more about the gentle art of
cooking, which, after all, is closely allied to the other one--of making
enemies. She decided to dispense with Hepsey's services, when Winfield
came up to dinner, and to do everything herself.