. She followed Peter
into the shop with quite a tremor, and was glad when she saw Mr Benson
could not attend to them just yet, for he and his boy were both deeply
engaged in attending to customers. Lilac had plenty of time to look
round her. Her eye immediately fell on some rolls of butter on the
counter, and she lifted a corner of the cloth which covered her own and
gave an anxious peep at it, then nudged Peter and looked up at him for
sympathy.

"It's a better colour nor that yonder," she whispered.

Peter stood stolidly unconscious of her excitement, but he turned his
quiet eyes upon the eager face lifted to his, and nodded kindly. Mr
Benson caught sight of him and bustled up.

"Morning, Peter," he said briskly. "How's your mother?"

"Middling, thank you," said Peter, and without any further words he
pointed at the basket on the counter.

"Butter--eh?" said the grocer. "Well, I hope it's as good as the last."
He unpacked the basket and proceeded to weigh the butter, talking all
the time.

"It's an odd thing to me how your butter varies. Now, the last month
it's been as good again as it used to be. Of course in the winter there
will be a difference because of the feed, I can understand that; but I
can't see why it shouldn't be always the same in the summer. I don't
mind telling you," he continued, leaning forward and speaking in a
confidential tone, "that I'd made up my mind at one time to give it up.
People won't buy inferior butter, and I don't blame 'em."

"It's good this time, anyhow," said Peter.

"It's prime," said Mr Benson. "Is it the cows now, that you've got
new, or is it the dairymaid?"

"The cows isn't new, nor yet the dairymaid," said Peter.

"Well, whichever it is," said the grocer, "the credit of the farm's
coming back. Orchards Farm always had a name for its dairy in the old
days. I remember my father talking of it when I was a boy."

Mrs Pinhorn, who had been standing near during this conversation, now
struck sharply in:

"They _do_ say there was a brownie at the farm in those days, but when
it got into other hands he was angered and quitted."

"That's a curious superstition, ma'am," said the grocer politely.

"There's folks in Danecross who give credit to it still," continued Mrs
Pinhorn. "Old Grannie Dunch'll tell you ever so many tales about the
brownie and his goings-on."

"Well, if we didn't live, so to say, within the pale of civilisation,"
said the grocer, sticki