Then she put more cinders and some bits of coal--no dust.

She put most of that on her hands, but there seemed to be enough left for her face.

Then she lighted the edges of the paper balls, and waited till she heard the fizz-crack-crack-fizz of the wood as it began to burn.

Then she went and washed her hands and face under the tap in the back kitchen.
Of course, you need not bark your knuckles, or cut your finger, or bruise your cheek with wood, or black yourself all over; but otherwise, this is a very good way to light a fire in London.

In the real country fires are lighted in a different and prettier way.
But it is always good to wash your hands and face afterwards, wherever you are.
While Anthea was delighting the poor little blackbeetles with the cheerful blaze, Jane had set the table for--I was going to say tea, but the meal of which I am speaking was not exactly tea.