"There is the lye-leach--you might bring out some ashes and make some soft
soap," said June pointing to the ancient leach and soap-kettle in the
yard, the joys of Mr. Spear's heart.
Sammy stood at the back door and pounded on the dishpan with a wooden
spoon to announce that dinner was ready. It was quite a sumptuous meal:
potatoes baked in the ashes, beans baked in the brick oven, coffee made on
the hearth, fish cooked in the skillet, and pancakes made on a griddle
with a handle three feet long.
Mr. Spear had aspirations toward an apple-pie and had made violent efforts
in that direction, but the product being dough on top and charcoal on the
bottom we declined the nomination with thanks.
June suggested that pies should be baked in an oven and not cooked on a
pancake griddle. The custodian thought there might be something in it--a
suggestion he would have scorned and scouted had it come from me.
To change the rather painful subject, Mr. Spear began to talk about John
and Abigail Adams, and to quote from their "Letters," a volume he seems to
have by heart.
"Do you know why their love was so very steadfast, and why they stimulated
the mental and spiritual natures of each other so?" asked June.
"No, why was it?"
"Well, I'll tell you: it was because they spent one-third of their married
life apart."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, and in this way they lived in an ideal world. In all their letters
you see they are always counting the days ere they will meet. Now, people
who are together all the time never write that way, because they do not
feel that way--I'll leave it to Mr. Spear!"
But Mr. Spear, being a bachelor, did not know. Then the case was referred
to Sammy, and Sammy lied and said he had never considered the subject.
"And would you advise, then, that married couples live apart one-third of
the time, in the interests of domestic peace?" I asked.
"Certainly!" said June, with her Burne-Jones chin in the air. "Certainly;
but I fear you are the man who does not understand; and anyway I am sure
it will be much more profitable for us to cultivate the receptive spirit
and listen to Mr. Spear--such opportunities do not come very often. I did
not mean to interrupt you, Mr. Spear; go on, please!"
And Mr. Spear filled a clay pipe with natural leaf that he crumbled in his
hand, and deftly picking a coal from the fireplace with a shovel one
hundred fifty years old, puffed five times silently, and began to talk.