and apparent rather than real. The first
was the downfall of young Harry Greenacre, and the other the uprise of
Mrs. Lookaloft and her family.

As to the quintain, it became more popular among the boys on foot than
it would ever have been among the men on horseback, even had young
Greenacre been more successful. It was twirled round and round till it
was nearly twirled out of the ground, and the bag of flour was used
with great gusto in powdering the backs and heads of all who could be
coaxed within its vicinity.

Of course it was reported all through the assemblage that Harry was
dead, and there was a pathetic scene between him and his mother when
it was found that he had escaped scatheless from the fall. A good deal
of beer was drunk on the occasion, and the quintain was "dratted" and
"bothered," and very generally anathematized by all the mothers who
had young sons likely to be placed in similar jeopardy. But the affair
of Mrs. Lookaloft was of a more serious nature.

"I do tell 'ee plainly--face to face--she be there in madam's
drawing-room; herself and Gussy, and them two walloping gals, dressed
up to their very eyeses." This was said by a very positive, very
indignant, and very fat farmer's wife, who was sitting on the end of
a bench leaning on the handle of a huge, cotton umbrella.

"But: you didn't zee her, Dame Guffern?" said Mrs. Greenacre, whom
this information, joined to the recent peril undergone by her son,
almost overpowered. Mr. Greenacre held just as much land as Mr.
Lookaloft, paid his rent quite as punctually, and his opinion in the
vestry room was reckoned to be every whit as good. Mrs. Lookaloft's
rise in the world had been wormwood to Mrs. Greenacre. She had no
taste herself for the sort of finery which had converted Barleystubb
farm into Rosebank and which had occasionally graced Mr. Lookaloft's
letters with the dignity of esquirehood. She had no wish to convert
her own homestead into Violet Villa, or to see her goodman go about
with a new-fangled handle to his name. But it was a mortal injury to
her that Mrs. Lookaloft should be successful in her hunt after such
honours. She had abused and ridiculed Mrs. Lookaloft to the extent
of her little power. She had pushed against her going out of church,
and had excused herself with all the easiness of equality. "Ah, dame,
I axes pardon, but you be grown so mortal stout these times." She had
inquired with apparent cordiality of Mr. Lookaloft after "t