akes you awful sticky. You make me think of a princess, too.
You're so bee-yeautiful to look at. Maybe that isn't polite to say.
Mother says it isn't always nice to speak right out all you think."

The dimples twinkled in Elliott's cheeks. "When you think things like
that, it is polite enough." In the direct rays of Priscilla's shining
admiration she began to feel like her normal, petted self once more.
Complacently she followed the little girl into the main kitchen. It
was a long, low, sunny room with a group of three windows at each end,
through which the morning breeze pushed coolly. Between the windows
opened many doors. At one side stood a range, all shining nickel and
cleanly black. Opposite the range, at a gleaming white sink, Aunt
Jessica was busying herself with many pans. At an immaculately scoured
table Laura was pouring peas into glass jars. On the walls was a
blue-and-white paper; even the woodwork was white.

"I didn't know a kitchen," Elliott spoke impulsively, "could be so
pretty."

"This is our work-room," said her aunt. "We think the place where we
work ought to be the prettiest room in the house. White paint requires
more frequent scrubbing than colored paint; but the girls say they
don't mind, since it keeps our spirits smiling. Would you like to help
dry these pans? You will find towels on that line behind the stove."

Elliott brought the dish-towels, and proceeded to forget her own
surprise at the request in the interest of Aunt Jessica's talk. Mrs.
Cameron had a lovely voice; the girl did not remember ever having
heard a more beautiful voice, and it was used with a cultured ease
that suddenly reminded Elliott of an almost forgotten remark once made
in her hearing by Stannard's mother. "It is a sin and shame," Aunt
Margaret had said, "to bury a woman like Jessica Cameron on a farm.
What possessed her to let Robert take her there in the first place is
beyond my comprehension. Granting that first mistake, why she has let
him stay all these years is another enigma. Robert is all very well,
but Jessica! I would defy any one to produce the situation _anywhere_
that Jessica wouldn't be equal to."

That had been a good deal for Aunt Margaret to say. Elliott had
realized it at the time and wondered a little; now she understood the
words, or thought she did. Why, even drying milk-pans took on a
certain distinction when it was done in Aunt Jessica's presence!

Then Aunt Jessica said something that real