"Can I help?" queried Carley.
"Not today.I do not want you to spring any domestic science on me now."Carley was not averse to withholding her ignorance.She watched Glenn with surpassing curiosity and interest.First he threw a quantity of wood upon the smoldering fire.
"I have ham and mutton of my own raising," announced Glenn, with importance."Which would you prefer?""Of your own raising.What do you mean?" queried Carley.
"My dear, you've been so steeped in the fog of the crowd that you are blind to the homely and necessary things of living.I mean I have here meat of both sheep and hog that I raised myself.That is to say, mutton and ham.
Which do you like?"
"Ham!" cried Carley, incredulously.
Without more ado Glenn settled to brisk action, every move of which Carley watched with keen eyes.The usurping of a woman's province by a man was always an amusing thing.But for Glenn Kilbourne--what more would it be? He evidently knew what he wanted, for every movement was quick, decisive.One after another he placed bags, cans, sacks, pans, utensils on the table.
Then he kicked at the roaring fire, settling some of the sticks.He strode outside to return with a bucket of water, a basin, towel, and soap.Then he took down two queer little iron pots with heavy lids.To each pot was attached a wire handle.He removed the lids, then set both the pots right on the fire or in it.Pouring water into the basin, he proceeded to wash his hands.Next he took a large pail, and from a sack he filled it half full of flour.To this he added baking powder and salt.It was instructive for Carley to see him run his skillful fingers all through that flour, as if searching for lumps.After this he knelt before the fire and, lifting off one of the iron pots with a forked stick, he proceeded to wipe out the inside of the pot and grease it with a piece of fat.His next move was to rake out a pile of the red coals, a feat he performed with the stick, and upon these he placed the pot.Also he removed the other pot from the fire, leaving it, however, quite close.
"Well, all eyes?" he bantered, suddenly staring at her."Didn't I say I'd surprise you?""Don't mind me.This is about the happiest and most bewildered moment--of my life," replied Carley.
Returning to the table, Glenn dug at something in a large red can.He paused a moment to eye Carley.
"Girl, do you know how to make biscuits?" he queried.
"I might have known in my school days, but I've forgotten," she replied.
"Can you make apple pie?" he demanded, imperiously.
"No," rejoined Carley.
"How do you expect to please your husband?""Why--by marrying him, I suppose," answered Carley, as if weighing a problem.
"That has been the universal feminine point of view for a good many years,"replied Glenn, flourishing a flour-whitened hand."But it never served the women of the Revolution or the pioneers.And they were the builders of the nation.It will never serve the wives of the future, if we are to survive.""Glenn, you rave!" ejaculated Carley, not knowing whether to laugh or be grave."You were talking of humble housewifely things.""Precisely.The humble things that were the foundation of the great nation of Americans.I meant work and children."Carley could only stare at him.The look he flashed at her, the sudden intensity and passion of his ringing words, were as if he gave her a glimpse into the very depths of him.He might have begun in fun, but he had finished otherwise.She felt that she really did not know this man.Had he arraigned her in judgment? A flush, seemingly hot and cold, passed over her.Then it relieved her to see that he had returned to his task.