"Dust!" she sniffed. "Barrels of it! and the plates--?" She took one
down and inspected it minutely. "I thought so. _Please_ go out," she
pleaded.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll do it anyway."

By this time she was peering into the corners, from one of which she
triumphantly brought forth a mop and pail.

"Oh, I say, I'm not going to let you do that."

"I don't see that you've got any choice in the matter. I'm going to
clean up, and if you don't want to be splashed, I'd advise you to clear
out."

She went to the spigot and let the water run into the bucket, while she
extended her palm in his direction.

"Now some soap please--hand-soap, if you have it. _Any_ soap, if you
haven't."

"I've only got this," he said lifting the soap from the dishpan.

"Oh, very well. Now please go and paint." But Markham didn't. He
found it more amusing to watch her small hands rubbing the soap into
the fiber of the mop.

"If you'll show me I'll be very glad--" he volunteered. But as he came