low's got a lazy streak in him somewhere."

"It's only just half-past five, mother."

"The butter ought to be come by now, I should think."--Mrs. Starling
was passing in and out, setting the table in the lean-to kitchen. She
would have no "help" in her dominions, so it was only in Diana's part
of the house that the little servant officiated, whom Basil insisted
upon keeping for his wife's ease and comfort and leisure. Diana herself
attended as of old to her particular sphere, the dairy. "How do you
know it's just half-past five?" her mother went on presently.

"I looked."

"Watches!" exclaimed Mrs. Starling with much disgust. "Your husband is
ridiculous about you."

But Diana could bear that.

"In your dairy is a queer place to wear a watch."

"Why, mother, it's for use, not for show."

"Make me believe that! There's a good deal of show about it, anyhow,
with such a chain hanging to it."

"My husband gave it to me, you know, chain and all; I must wear it,"
Diana said with a face as sweet as the roses.

"Oh yes! your husband!" Mrs. Starling answered insultingly. "That will
do to say to other people. Much you care what your husband does!"

Diana got up here, left her churn, came up to her mother, and put a
hand upon her arm. The action and air of the woman were so commanding,
that even Mrs. Starling stood still with a certain involuntary
deference. Diana's face and voice, however, were as clear and calm as
they were commanding.

"Mother,"--she said,--"you are mistaken. I care with all there is of
me; heart and soul and life."

Mrs. Starling's eye shrank away. "Since when?" she asked incredulously.

"It does not matter since when. Whatever I have ever felt for other
people, there is only one person in the world that I care for now; and
that is, my husband."

"You'd better tell him so," sneered Mrs. Starling. "When do you expect
your butter is going to come, if you stand there?"

"The butter is come," said Diana gently. She knew the sneer was meant
to cover uneasy feeling; and if it had not, still she would not have
resented it. She never resented anything now that was done to herself.
In came Josh with the foaming pails. Diana's hands were in the butter,
and her mother came to strain the milk.

"There had ought to be three quarts more, that ain't here," she
grumbled.

"They ain't nowheres else, then," answered her factotum.

"Josh, you don't strip the cows clean."

"Who doos, then?" said Josh, gri