e one had said there
were to be cloaks and other nice clothes for prizes, and she approached
the marquee, fanning herself with her handkerchief, but with exultation
sparkling in her round eyes.

"Here is the prize for the first sack-race," said Miss Lydia, taking a
large parcel from the table where the prizes were laid and giving it to
Mrs. Irwine before Bessy came up, "an excellent grogram gown and a piece
of flannel."

"You didn't think the winner was to be so young, I suppose, Aunt?" said
Arthur. "Couldn't you find something else for this girl, and save that
grim-looking gown for one of the older women?"

"I have bought nothing but what is useful and substantial," said Miss
Lydia, adjusting her own lace; "I should not think of encouraging a love
of finery in young women of that class. I have a scarlet cloak, but that
is for the old woman who wins."

This speech of Miss Lydia's produced rather a mocking expression in Mrs.
Irwine's face as she looked at Arthur, while Bessy came up and dropped a
series of curtsies.

"This is Bessy Cranage, mother," said Mr. Irwine, kindly, "Chad
Cranage's daughter. You remember Chad Cranage, the blacksmith?"

"Yes, to be sure," said Mrs. Irwine. "Well, Bessy, here is your
prize--excellent warm things for winter. I'm sure you have had hard work
to win them this warm day."

Bessy's lip fell as she saw the ugly, heavy gown--which felt so hot and
disagreeable too, on this July day, and was such a great ugly thing to
carry. She dropped her curtsies again, without looking up, and with a
growing tremulousness about the corners of her mouth, and then turned
away.

"Poor girl," said Arthur; "I think she's disappointed. I wish it had
been something more to her taste."

"She's a bold-looking young person," observed Miss Lydia. "Not at all
one I should like to encourage."

Arthur silently resolved that he would make Bessy a present of money
before the day was over, that she might buy something more to her mind;
but she, not aware of the consolation in store for her, turned out of
the open space, where she was visible from the marquee, and throwing
down the odious bundle under a tree, began to cry--very much tittered at
the while by the small boys. In this situation she was descried by her
discreet matronly cousin, who lost no time in coming up, having just
given the baby into her husband's charge.

"What's the matter wi' ye?" said Bess the matron, taking up the bundle
and examining i