e 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 butter. 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 butter 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 butter'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 grass 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 w