ere." Then to the footman, "Thomas, come with me."

At that moment Dick Little came towards the small group.

"How d'you do, Lady Kerrick?" he smiled easily. "Delighted to be the
first to welcome the Lady of the Feast. May I get you some
refreshment?"

"You may not," was the ungracious response.

Lady Knob-Kerrick disliked both Little and his well-bred manner. She
was accustomed to deference and servility. She also disapproved of
what she conceived to be her daughter Ethel's interest in the doctor's
son, and for that reason had not brought her to the Fete.

With a smile and a lifting of his hat, Little passed on in the
direction of Barton Bridge.

Just as Lady Knob-Kerrick was preparing to descend from her carriage, a
girl with a flushed face darted round the canvas screen that had been
erected inside the gate. A moment after a man followed, coatless,
hatless, and flushed. He caught her, lifted her in his arms and
carried her back laughing and screaming. Neither had seen the carriage
or its occupants. Tool, the coachman, looked only as a well-trained
man-servant can look, wooden; but Thomas grinned, and was withered by
his mistress's eye.

The man who had pursued and caught the girl was Mr. Marsh, the people's
churchwarden, a widower with grown-up daughters.

With an air of stern determination, Lady Knob-Kerrick descended from
her carriage and marched boldly round the screen. Never had she beheld
such a scene. She did not faint, she did not cry out, she grimly stood
and watched.

Bindle had relinquished his refreshment-stall to assume the direction
of the revels. All seemed to look to him for inspiration. The dingy
cricket cap was to be seen bobbing about everywhere, his grin of
enjoyment was all-embracing. He it was who set the Morris dancers
going and picked them up when they fell. He it was who explained to
Miss Slocum, who hitherto had refreshed herself with tea, that their
inability to keep an upright position was due to the heat.

"It's the 'eat, miss, 'as a wonderful effect. Look at 'er now." He
indicated to Miss Slocum's horror-stricken gaze the form of Miss McFie,
who was sitting on the ground, hat awry, singing quietly to herself.

It was Bindle, too, who fetched for Miss Slocum a glass of lemonade,
after which she seemed to see more with the others.

The maypole dance was in full progress when Lady Knob-Kerrick entered
the meadow. Youths and girls, men and women staggered unste