dairy.

People speak of the way in which harp-playing sets off a graceful
figure; spinning is almost as becoming an employment. A woman stands
at the great wool-wheel, one arm extended, the other holding the
thread, her head thrown back to take in all the scope of her
occupation; or if it is the lesser spinning-wheel for flax--and it
was this that Sylvia moved forwards to-night--the pretty sound of
the buzzing, whirring motion, the attitude of the spinner, foot and
hand alike engaged in the business--the bunch of gay coloured
ribbon that ties the bundle of flax on the rock--all make it into a
picturesque piece of domestic business that may rival harp-playing
any day for the amount of softness and grace which it calls out.

Sylvia's cheeks were rather flushed by the warmth of the room after
the frosty air. The blue ribbon with which she had thought it
necessary to tie back her hair before putting on her hat to go to
market had got rather loose, and allowed her disarranged curls to
stray in a manner which would have annoyed her extremely, if she had
been upstairs to look at herself in the glass; but although they
were not set in the exact fashion which Sylvia esteemed as correct,
they looked very pretty and luxuriant. Her little foot, placed on
the 'traddle', was still encased in its smartly buckled shoe--not
slightly to her discomfort, as she was unaccustomed to be shod in
walking far; only as Philip had accompanied them home, neither she
nor Molly had liked to go barefoot. Her round mottled arm and ruddy
taper hand drew out the flax with nimble, agile motion, keeping time
to the movement of the wheel. All this Philip could see; the greater
part of her face was lost to him as she half averted it, with a shy
dislike to the way in which she knew from past experience that
cousin Philip always stared at her. And avert it as she would she
heard with silent petulance the harsh screech of Philip's chair as
he heavily dragged it on the stone floor, sitting on it all the
while, and felt that he was moving round so as to look at her as
much as was in his power, without absolutely turning his back on
either her father or mother. She got herself ready for the first
opportunity of contradiction or opposition.

'Well, wench! and has ta bought this grand new cloak?'

'Yes, feyther. It's a scarlet one.'

'Ay, ay! and what does mother say?'

'Oh, mother's content,' said Sylvia, a little doubting in her heart,
but determined to de