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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Seasons of washing," explained Irais, "are seasons set apart by the Hausfrau to be kept holy.
That you are put on a chair on the other side of the table places you at once in the scale of precedence, and exactly defines your social position, or rather your complete want of a social position." And Irais tilted her nose ever so little heavenwards. "Why,'The Subtle Significance of Sofas', of course," replied Irais.
Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, but I don't doubt its utility as a means of encouraging thoughtfulness; nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so poetically, any more than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, and I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. She is the sweetest singer I have ever heard, and has a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along.
It was bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to laugh with us as she had been six hours before. "Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora? inquired Irais, as we got out of the forest on to the chaussee, and the lights of the village before ours twinkled in the distance. "How many degrees do you suppose there are now?" was Minora's reply to this question. "Degrees?
Irais did not even turn her head to look, and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve to be placed in Minora's list of disagreeable people side by side with Irais? Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. "It wants the music, of course," observed Minora breathlessly, darting in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing at the Man of Wrath.
"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 said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us till dinner-time, and this morning we went for a long sleigh-drive. When we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. "Is Miss Jones ill?" asked Minora. "She is gone," I said. "Gone?" "Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?" asked Irais blandly; and we talked resolutely of something else. All the afternoon Minora has moped.
"What puzzled me," he went on musingly, "was that she went away apparently as serene and happy as when she came. The explanation of the principles of bimetallism produce, as a rule, a contrary effect." "Why, she hadn't been listening," cried Irais, "and your simple star had been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. "Prattle, prattle, simple star, Bimetallic, wunderbar.
"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, turning to the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. "Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?" Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her note-book.
Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and the babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the numerous relations staying with her have left, "which they won't do," she wrote the other day, "until the first frosts nip them off, when they will disappear like belated dahlias double ones of course, for single dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations.
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