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ning prayer for pity and for peace。〃
〃How very curious！〃 said Minora； when she had finished。 〃That is exactly what I was going to say。〃
〃Oh； then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together； you can copy that if you like。〃 〃But have you a stale soul； Miss Minora？〃 I asked。
〃Well； do you know； I rather think that is a good touch；〃 she replied； 〃it will make people really think a man wrote the book。 You know I am going to take a man's name。〃
〃That is precisely what I imagined；〃 said Irais。 〃You will call yourself John Jones； or George Potts； or some such sternly commonplace name； to emphasise your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses； and no one will be taken in。〃
〃I really think； Elizabeth；〃 said Irais to me later； when the click of Minora's typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room； 〃that you and I are writing her book for her。 She takes down everything we say。 Why does she copy all that about the baby？ I wonder why mothers' knees are supposed to be touching？ I never learned anything at them； did you？ But then in my case they were only stepmother's； and nobody ever sings their praises。〃
〃My mother was always at parties；〃 I said； 〃and the nurse made me say my prayers in French。〃
〃And as for tubs and powder；〃 went on Irais； 〃when I was a baby such things were not the fashion。 There were never any bathrooms； and no tubs； our faces and hands were washed； and there was a foot…bath in the room； and in the summer we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards for fear we might catch cold。 My stepmother didn't worry much； she used to wear pink dresses all over lace； and the older she got the prettier the dresses got。 When is she going？〃
〃Who？ Minora？ I haven't asked her that。〃
〃Then I will。 It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this。 She has been here an unconscionable time；it must be nearly three weeks。〃
〃Yes； she came the same day you did；〃 I said pleasantly。
Irais was silent。 I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to neglect one's art than one's husband； and her husband is lying all this time stretched on a bed of sickness； while she is spending her days so agreeably with me。 She has a way of forgetting that she has a home； or any other business in the world than just to stay on chatting with me； and reading； and singing； and laughing at any one there is to laugh at； and kissing the babies； and tilting with the Man of Wrath。 Naturally I love hershe is so pretty that anybody with eyes in his head must love herbut too much of anything is bad； and next month the passages and offices are to be whitewashed； and people who have ever whitewashed their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while it is being done； and there will be no dinner for Irais； and none of those succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves。 I shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring every day anxiously after her husband's health。 She is not very fond of him； because he does not run and hold the door open for her every time she gets up to leave the room； and though she has asked him to do so； and told him how much she wishes he would； he still won't。 She stayed once in a house where there was an Englishman； and his nimbleness in regard to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has had no peace since； and each time she has to go out of a room she is reminded of her disregarded wishes； so that a shut door is to her symbolic of the failure of her married life； and the very sight of one makes her wonder why she was born； at least； that is what she told me once； in a burst of confidence。 He is quite a nice； harmless little man； pleasant to talk to； good…tempered； and full of fun ； but he thinks he is too old to begin to learn new and uncomfortable ways； and he has that horror of being made better by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men； and is shared by the Man of Wrath； who persists in holding his glass in his left hand at meals； because if he did not （and I don't believe he particularly likes doing it） his relations might say that marriage has improved him； and thus drive the iron into his soul。 This habit occasions an almost daily argument between one or other of the babies and myself。
〃April； hold your glass in your right hand。〃
〃But papa doesn't。〃
〃When you are as old as papa you can do as you like。〃
Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively； 〃And only think how strange it would look if everybody held their glasses so。〃
April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition。
January 28th。It is very cold；fifteen degrees of frost Reaumur； but perfectly delicious； still； bright weather； and one feels jolly and energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody。 The two young ladies are still here； but the air is so buoyant that even they don't weigh on me any longer； and besides； they have both announced their approaching departure； so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace； and the house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the spring。
Minora has painted my portrait； and is going to present it as a parting gift to the Man of Wrath； and the fact that I let her do it； and sat meekly times innumerable； proves conclusively； I hope； that I am not vain。 When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried； and at once commissioned her to paint hers； so that she may take it away with her and give it to her husband on his birthday； which happens to be early in February。 Indeed； if it were not for this birthday； I really think she would have forgotten to go at all； but birthdays are great and solemn festivals with us； never allowed to slip by unnoticed； and always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations （gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing； and that nobody would ever dream； and that really it is wonderful）； who stand round a sort of sacrificial altar； on which your years are offered up as a burnt…offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink and white candles； stuck in a very large； flat； jammy cake。 The cake with its candles is the chief feature； and on the table round it lie the gifts each person present is more or less bound to give。 As my birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as blotting…books and photograph…frames； and if it were in the summer I should get photograph…frames and blotting…books and no mittens； but whatever the present may be； and by whomsoever given； it has to be welcomed with the noisiest gratitude； and loudest exclamations of joy； and such words as entzuckend； reizend； herrlich； wundervoll； and suss repeated over and over again； until the unfortunate Geburtstagskind feels indeed that another year has gone； and that she has grown older； and wiser； and more tired of folly and of vain repetitions。 A flag is hoisted； and all the morning the rites are celebrated； the cake eaten； healths drunk； speeches made； and hands nearly shaken off。 The neighbouring parsons drive up； and when nobody is looking their wives count the candles in the cake； the active lady in the next Schlass spares time to send a pot of flowers； and to look up my a