“Say how do you do,” Gladys said sharply.

The sharpness seemed unnecessary, for Iris had already released her right hand and was politely holding it out. Something about the depressing neatness of the child caught at Janet’s heart. She held the hand and drew the child to her and kissed her.

“Good morning, not that it is a good morning, it’s a perfect beast, isn’t it? I hate rain, don’t you?”

“Iris is a farmer’s daughter and knows water is needed. We’ve had nearly a drought here.”

Janet laughed.

“I may know I need medicine, but it doesn’t make me like it.”

Iris’ face changed. It broke into a wide grin, her eyes were raised to Janet and she saw they were an unusually lovely blue. Laughing, the child looked a different person.

“I hate rain too,” she agreed. “I’ve got gum boots, and a mackintosh and a sou’wester, and I’d like to go out and help Ben.”

Gladys put a saucepan on the stove.

“You’ll have a cup of coffee, Miss Brain.” As Janet smiled assent she looked over her shoulder at Iris. “When you are old enough to clean your own boots and mackintosh, you can do what you like about going out, but while I’ve got to look after you as well as do all the housework, I can’t put up with any extra mess; your father and the men stamping in and out are bad enough.” Iris had a clear little voice.

“I could clean them myself, but you won’t let me.”

“It only makes more work if I do, slopping water everywhere.” Gladys evidently felt she was sounding hard, for she turned to Janet with a note of apology in her voice. “I sound rather fierce, but if you knew what there was to do in this house. Sometimes when Iris comes in with a torn frock, or has fallen down and made herself in a mess, I could cry. I do all the washing myself. The laundry tears everything to bits. I have the woman, Mrs. Honeywell, to help me, but she’s no good at fine work. All Iris’ little things I iron and wash myself.”

Janet thought how wretched for the child to hear what a burden she was; but at the same time she felt for Gladys. She was obviously overstrained and nervous. She was evidently one of those women who must have everything just so, and was driven distracted at anything untidy or torn. It seemed a pity she had chosen to live on a large, rambling farm; a little labour-saving flat or villa was what she needed.

“If I come and give Iris lessons, I can help look after her things.”

Iris clutched at Janet’s arm.