road to Lenham dull and flat, it was full of charms to Lilac. It
was indeed more lively than usual, for it was market day, and as they
jogged along at an easy pace they were constantly greeted by
acquaintances all bent in the same direction. Some of these were on
foot and others in all kinds of vehicles, from a wagon to a donkey cart.
Mr Buckle presently dashed by them in a smart gig, and called out,
"How's yourself, Peter?" as he passed; and farther on they overtook Mrs
Pinhorn actively striding along in her well-known checked shawl.

Peter answered all greetings in the same manner--a wag of the head
towards the right shoulder--but Lilac felt so proud and pleased to be
going to Lenham with her own butter that she sat up very straight, and
smiled and nodded heartily to those she knew. It seemed a wonderfully
short journey, and she saw the spire of Lenham church in the distance
before she had said one word to Peter, or he had broken silence except
to speak to his horse. This did not disturb her, for she was used to
his ways now, and she made up her mind that she would put off any
attempt at conversation until their return. And here they were at
Lenham, rattling over the round stones with which the marketplace was
paved. It was full of stalls, crowded together so closely that there
was scarcely room for all the people passing up and down between them.
They struggled along, jostling each other, pushing their way with great
baskets on their arms, and making a confusion of noises. Scolding,
laughter, shouting filled the air, mixed up with the clatter of
crockery, cracking of whips, and the shrill cries of the market women.
Such a turmoil Lilac had never heard, and it was almost a relief when
Peter turned a little away from it and drew up at the door of Benson's
shop, where the butter was to be left. It was a large and important
shop, and though the entrance was down a narrow street it had two great
windows facing the market square, and there was a constant stream of
people bustling in and out. Lilac's heart beat fast with excitement.
If she had known that the butter was to be displayed in such a grand
beautiful place as this, and seen by so many folks, she would hardly
have dared to undertake it. Sudden fear seized her that it might not be
so good as usual this time: there was perhaps some fault in the
making-up, some failure in the colour, although she had thought it
looked all right when she packed up at the farm