"Well, well, well," said Joshua, "every little helps, and I expect you'll find her more use than you think for. Even a child is known by its doings, as Solomon says."

Mrs Greenways interposed hastily, for she feared the beginning of what she called Joshua's "preachments."

"You'd like to have seen her, maybe; but she's gone with Agnetta to the Vicarage to take some eggs. Mrs Leigh likes to see the gals now and then."

Joshua made his visit as long as he could in the hope of Lilac's return, but she did not appear, and at last he could wait no longer.

"Well, I'll go and have a look round for Peter," he said; "and p'r'aps you'll send Lilac up one day to see me. She was always a favourite of mine, was Lilac White. And I'd a deal of respect for her poor mother too. Any day as suits your convenience."

"Oh, she can come any day as for that, Mr Snell," replied Mrs Greenways with a little toss of her head. "It doesn't make no differ in a house whether a child like that goes or stays. She's plenty of time on her hands."

"That's settled then, ma'am," said Joshua, "and I shall be looking to see her soon."

He made his farewell, leaving Mrs Greenways not a little annoyed that no mention had been made of Agnetta in this invitation.

"Not that she'd go," she said to herself, "but he might a asked her as well as that little bit of a Lilac."

It was quite a long time before she found it possible to allow Lilac to make this visit, for although she was small and useless and made no differ in the house, there were a wonderful number of things for her to do. Lilac's work increased; other people beside Mrs Greenways discovered the advantage of her willing hands, and were glad to put some of their own business into them.

Thus the care of the poultry, which had been shuffled off Bella's shoulders on to Agnetta, now descended from her to Lilac, the number of eggs brought in much increasing in consequence. Lilac liked this part of her daily task; she was proud to discover the retired corners and lurking-places of the hens, and fill her basket with the brown and pink eggs. Day by day she took more interest in her feathered family, and began to find distinguishing marks of character or appearance in each, she even made plans to defeat the inroads of the rats by coaxing her charges to lay their eggs in the barn, where they were more secure.

"Hens is sillier than most things," said Ben, when she confided her difficulties to him; "what they've done once they'll do allers, it's no good fightin' with 'em." He consented, however, to nail some boards over the worst holes in the barn, and by degrees, after infinite patience, Lilac succeeded in making some of the hens desert their old haunts and use their new abode. All this was encouraging. And about this time a new interest indoors arose which made her life at Orchards Farm less lonely, and was indeed an event of some importance to her. It happened in this way. Ever since her arrival she had watched the proceedings of Molly in the dairy with great attention. She had asked questions about the b.u.t.ter-making until Molly was tired of answering, and had often begged to be allowed to help. This was never refused, although Molly opened her eyes wide at the length of time she took to clean and rinse and scour, and by degrees she was trusted with a good deal of the work. The day came when she implored to be allowed to do it all--just for once. Molly hesitated; she had as usual a hundred other things to do and would be thankful for the help, but was such a bit of a thing to be trusted? On the whole, from her experience of Lilac she concluded that she was.

"You won't let on to the missus as how you did it?" she said. And this being faithfully promised, Lilac was left in quiet possession of the dairy. She felt almost as excited about that batch of b.u.t.ter as if her life depended on it. Suppose it should fail? "But there!" she said to herself, "I won't think of that; I will make it do," and she set to work courageously. And now her habits of care and neatness and thoroughness formed in past years came to her service, as well as her close observation of Molly. Nothing was hurried in the process, every small detail earnestly attended to, and at last trembling with excitement and triumph she saw the result of her labours. The b.u.t.ter was a complete success. As she stood in the cool dark dairy with the firm golden pats before her, each bearing the sharply-cut impression of the stamp, Lilac clasped her hands with delight. She had not known such a proud moment in all her life, except on the day when she had been Queen. And this was a different sort of pride, for it was joy in her own handiwork-- something she herself had done with no one to help her. "Oh," she said to herself, "if Mother could but see that, how rare an' pleased she'd be!" Maybe she did, but how silent it was without her voice to say "Well done", and how blank without her face to smile on her child's success.

There was no one to sympathise but Molly, who came in presently with loud exclamations of surprise.

"So you've got through? Lor'-a-mussy, what a handy little thing it is!

And you won't ever let on to missus or any of 'em?"

Lilac never did "let on." She kept Molly's secret faithfully, and saw her b.u.t.ter packed up and driven off to Lenham without saying a word.

And from this time forward the making up of the b.u.t.ter, and sometimes the whole process, was left in her hands. It was not easy work, for all the things she had to use were too large and heavy for her small hands, and she had to stand on a stool to turn the handle of the big churn.

But she liked it, and what she lacked in strength she made up in zeal; it was far more interesting than scrubbing floors and scouring saucepans. Molly, too, was much satisfied with this new arrangement, for the dairy had always brought her more scolding from her mistress than any part of her work, and all now went on much more smoothly.

Lilac wondered sometimes that her aunt never seemed to notice how much she was in the dairy, or called her away to do other things; she always spoke as if it were Molly alone who made the b.u.t.ter. In truth Mrs Greenways knew all about it, and was very content to let matters go on as they were; but something within her, that old jealousy of Lilac and her mother, made it impossible for her to praise her niece for her services. She could not do it without deepening the contrast between her own daughters and Lilac, which she felt, but would not acknowledge even to herself. So Lilac got no praise and no thanks for what she did, and though she found satisfaction in turning out the b.u.t.ter well for its own sake, this was not quite enough. A very small word or look would have contented her. Once when her uncle said: "The b.u.t.ter's good this week," she thought her aunt must speak, and glanced eagerly at her, but Mrs Greenways turned her head another way and no words come. Lilac felt hurt and disappointed.

It was a busier time than usual at the farm just now, though there was always plenty for everyone to do. It was hay harvest and there were extra hands at work, extra cooking to do, and many journeys to be made to and from the hayfield. Lilac was on the run from morning till night, and even Bella and Agnetta were obliged to bestir themselves a little.

In the big field beyond the orchard where the gra.s.s had stood so tall and waved its flowery heads so proudly, it was now lying low on the ground in the bright hot sun. The sky was cloudless, and the farmer's brow had cleared a little too, for he had a splendid crop and every chance of getting it in well.

"To-morrow's Lenham fete," said Agnetta to Lilac one evening.

"It's a pity but what you can go," answered Lilac.

"We are going," said Agnetta triumphantly, "spite of Peter and Father being so contrary; and we ain't a-going to walk there neither!"

"How are you goin' to get there, then?" asked Lilac.

"Mr Buckle, he's goin' to drive us over in his gig," said Agnetta. "My I shan't we cut a dash? Bella, she's goin' to wear her black silk done up. We've washed it with beer and it rustles beautiful just like a new one. And she's got a hat turned up on one side and trimmed with Gobelin."

"What's that?" asked Lilac, very much interested.

"It's the new blue, silly," answered Agnetta disdainfully. Then she added: "My new parasol's got lace all round it, ever so deep. I expect we shall be about the most stylish girls there. Won't Charlotte Smith stare!"

"I s'pose it's summat like a fair, isn't it?" asked Lilac.

"Lor', no!" exclaimed Agnetta; "not a bit. Not near so vulgar. There's a balloon, and a promnarde, and fireworks in the evening."

All these things sounded mysteriously splendid to Lilac's unaccustomed ears. She did not know what any of them meant, but they seemed all the more attractive.

"You've got to be so sober and old-fashioned like," continued Agnetta, "that I s'pose you wouldn't care to go even if you could, would you?

You'd rather stop at home and work."

"I'd like to go," answered Lilac; "but Molly couldn't never get through with the work to-morrow if we was all to go. There's a whole lot to do."

"Oh, of course you couldn't go," said Agnetta loftily. "Bella and me's different. We're on a different footing."

Agnetta had heard her mother use this expression, and though she would have been puzzled to explain it, it gave her an agreeable sense of superiority to her cousin.

In spite of soberness and gravity, Lilac felt not a little envious the next day when Mr Buckle drove up in his high gig to fetch her cousins to the fete. She could hear the exclamations of surprise and admiration which fell from Mrs Greenways as they appeared ready to start.

"Well," she said with uplifted hands, "you do know how to give your things a bit of style. That I _will_ say."

Bella had spent days of toil in preparing for this occasion, and the result was now so perfect in her eyes that it was well worth the labour.

The silk skirt crackled and rustled and glistened with every movement; the new hat was perched on her head with all its ribbons and flowers nodding. She was now engaged in painfully forcing on a pair of lemon-coloured gloves, but suddenly there was the sound of a crack, and her smile changed to a look of dismay.

"There!" she exclaimed, "if it hasn't gone, right across the thumb."

"Lor', what a pity," said her mother. "Well, you can't stop to mend it; you must keep one hand closed, and it'll never show."

Agnetta now appeared. She was dressed in the Sunday blue, with Bella's silver locket round her neck and a bangle on her wrist. But the glory of her attire was the new parasol; it was so large and was trimmed with such a wealth of cotton lace, that the eye was at once attracted to it, and in fact when she bore it aloft her short square figure walking along beneath it became quite a secondary object.

Lilac watched the departure from the dairy window, which, overgrown with creepers, made a dark frame for the brightly-coloured picture. There was Mr Buckle, a young farmer of the neighbourhood, in a light-grey suit with a blue satin tie and a rose in his b.u.t.tonhole. There was Bella, her face covered with self-satisfied smiles, mounting to his side. There was Agnetta carrying the new parasol high in the air with all its lace fluttering. How gay and happy they all looked! Mrs Greenways stood nodding at the window. She had meant to go out to the gate, but Bella had checked her. "Lor', Ma," she said, "don't you come out with that great ap.r.o.n on--you're a perfect guy."

When the start was really made, and her cousins were whirled off to the unknown delights of Lenham, leaving only a cloud of dust behind them, Lilac breathed a little sigh. The sun was so bright, the breeze blew so softly, the sky was so blue--it was the very day for a holiday. She would have liked to go too, instead of having a hard day's work before her.

"Where's Lilac?" called out Mrs Greenways in her high-pitched worried voice. "What on earth's got that child? Here's everything to do and no one to do it. Ah! there you are," as Lilac ran out from the dairy.

"Now, you haven't got no time to moon about to-day. You must stir yourself and help all you can."

"Bees is swarmin'!" said Ben, thrusting his head in at the kitchen door, and immediately disappearing again.

"Bother the bees!" exclaimed Mrs Greenways crossly. But on Molly the news had a different effect. It was counted lucky to be present at the housing of a new swarm. She at once left her occupation, seized a saucepan and an iron spoon, and regardless of her mistress rushed out into the garden, making a hideous clatter as she went. "There now, look at that!" said Mrs Greenways with a heated face. "She's off for goodness knows how long, and a batch of loaves burning in the oven, and your uncle wanting his tea sent down into the field. Why ever should they want to go swarmin' now in that contrairy way?"

She opened the oven door and took out the bread as she spoke.

"Now, don't you go running off, Lilac," she continued. "There's enough of 'em out there to settle all the bees as ever was. You get your uncle's tea and take it out, and Peter's too. They won't neither of 'em be in till supper. Hurry now."

The last words were added simply from habit, for she had soon discovered that it was impossible to hurry Lilac. What she did was well and thoroughly done, but not even the example which surrounded her at Orchards Farm could make her in a bustle. The whole habit of her life was too strong within her to be altered. Mrs Greenways glanced at her a little impatiently as she steadily made the tea, poured it into a tin can, and cut thick hunches of bread and b.u.t.ter. "I could a done it myself in, half the time," she thought; but she was obliged to confess that Lilac's preparations if slow were always sure, and that she never forgot anything.

Lilac tilted her sunbonnet well forward and set out, walking slowly so as not to spill the tea. How blazing the sun was, though it was now nearly four o'clock. In the distance she could see the end of her journey, the big bare field beyond the orchard full of busy figures. As she pa.s.sed the kitchen garden, Molly, rushing back from her encounter with the bees, almost ran against her.