e tips of his
large ears got very red as he saw Lilac's confusion, and he went a step
lower down the ladder, but his eyes were still above the level of the
floor.

"Well," said Agnetta, still giggling, "we'll hear what Peter thinks of
it. Don't she look a deal better with her hair cut so, Peter?"

Peter's grey-green eyes, not unkindly in expression, fixed themselves on
his cousin's face. In her turn Lilac gazed back at them,
half-frightened, yet beseeching mutely for a favourable opinion; it was
like looking into a second mirror. She waited anxiously for his answer.
It came at last, slowly, from Peter's invisible mouth.

"No," he said, "I liked it best as it wur afore." As he spoke the head
disappeared, and they heard him go clumping down the ladder again. The
words fell heavily on Lilac's ears. "Best as it wur afore." Perhaps
everyone would think so too. She looked dismally first at the locks of
hair on the ground and then at Agnetta's unconcerned face.

"Well, you've no call to mind what _he_ says anyhow," said the latter
cheerfully. "He don't know what's what."

"I most wish," said Lilac, as she turned to leave the loft, "that I
hadn't done it."

As she spoke, the distant sound of the church clock was heard. There
was only just time to get to the foot of the hill, and she said a
hurried good-bye to Agnetta, tying on her bonnet as she ran across the
fields. She generally hated the sun-bonnet, but to-day for the first
time she found a comfort in its deep brim, which sheltered this new
Lilac White a little from the world. She almost hoped that the artist
would change his mind and let her keep it on, instead of holding it in
her hand.

CHAPTER THREE.

"UNCLE JOSHUA."

"Let each be what he is, so will he be good enough for man himself,
and God."--_Lavater_.

Whilst all this was going on at the farm, Mrs White had been busy as
usual in the cottage on the hill--her mind full of Lilac, and her hands
full of the Rectory washing. It was an important business, for it was
all she and her child had to depend on beside a small pension allowed
her by Jem's late employers; but quite apart from this she took a pride
in her work for its own sake. She felt responsible not only for the
unyielding stiffness of the Rector's round collars, but also for the
appearance of the choristers' surplices; and any failure in colour or
approach to limpness was a real pain to her, and made it difficult to
fix her at