It was all so disconcerting that self-possessed Elliott stammered. She stammered from pure surprise and chagrin and a confusing mixture of emotions, but what she stammered was in answer to Aunt Jessica's tone and extracted from her by the force of Aunt Jessica's personality. The words came out in spite of herself.
"Oh--oh, thank you," she said, a bit blankly. Then she blushed with confusion. How awkward she had been. Oughtn't Aunt Jessica to have thanked her?
If Aunt Jessica noticed either the confusion or the blankness, she gave no sign.
"That will be fine!" she said heartily. "I saw by the way you handled those pans that I could depend on you."
Insensibly Elliott's chin lifted. She regarded the pans with new interest. "Of course," she assented, "one has to be particular."
"Very particular," said Aunt Jessica, and her dark eyes smiled on the girl.
The words, as she spoke them, sounded like a compliment. It mightn't be so bad, Elliott reflected, to wash milk-pans every morning. And in Rome you do as the Romans do. She watched closely while Aunt Jessica washed the separator. She could easily do that, she was sure. It did not seem to require any unusual skill or strength or brain-power.
"It is not hard work," said Aunt Jessica, pleasantly. "But so many girls aren't dependable. I couldn't count on them to make everything clean. Sometimes I think just plain dependableness is the most delightful trait in the world. It's so rare, you know."
Elliott opened her eyes wide. She had been accustomed to hear charm and wit and vivacity spoken of in those terms, but dependableness? It had always seemed such a homely, commonplace thing, not worth mentioning. And here was Aunt Jessica talking of it as of a crown jewel! Right down in her heart at that minute Elliott vowed that the separator should always be clean.
The separator, however, must not commit her indiscriminately, she saw that clearly. Perhaps in fact, it would save her. Hadn't Aunt Jessica said each had her own tasks? Ergo, you let others alone. But she had an uncomfortable feeling that this reasoning might prove false in practice; in this household a good many tasks seemed to be pooled. How about them?
And then Laura looked up from her jars and said the oddest thing yet in all this morning of odd sayings: "Oh, Mother, mayn't we take our dinner out? It is such a perfectly beautiful day!" As though a beautiful day had anything to do with where you ate your dinner!