Part 17 (1/2)

”Why, as to that, she's only a child, and makes no differ in the house, as you always say,” remarked the farmer; ”anyhow, I mean her to go to-morrow, and that's all about it.”

Lilac went to bed that night with a heart full of grat.i.tude for her uncle's kindness, and delight at the promised visit; but her last thought before she slept was: ”I'm sorry as how None-so-pretty has got to be sold.”

CHAPTER NINE.

COMMON THINGS.

”...Find out men's wants and will And meet them there, all earthly joys grow less To the one joy of doing kindnesses.”

_George Herbert_.

Lilac could hardly believe her own good fortune when nothing happened the next morning to prevent her visit, not even a cross word nor a complaint from her aunt, who seemed to have forgotten her objections of last night and to be quite pleased that she should go. Mrs Greenways put a small basket into her hand before she started, into which she had packed a chicken, a pot of honey, and a pat of fresh b.u.t.ter.

”There,” she said, ”that's a little something from Orchards Farm, tell him. The chick's our own rearing, and the honey's from Peter's bees, and the b.u.t.ter's fresh this morning.”

She nodded and smiled good-naturedly; Joshua should see there was no stint at the farm. ”Be back afore dusk,” she called after Lilac as she watched her from the gate.

So there was nothing to spoil the holiday or to damp Lilac's enjoyment in any way, and she felt almost as merry as she used to be before she came to live in the valley, and had begun to have cares and troubles.

For one whole day she was going to be White Lilac again, with no anxieties about the b.u.t.ter; she would hear no peevish voices or wrangling disputes, she would have kindness and smiles and suns.h.i.+ne all round her, and the blue sky above. In this happy mood everything along the well-known road had new beauties, and when she turned up the hill and felt the keener air blow against her face, it was like the greeting of an old friend. The very flowers in the tall overgrown hedges were different to those which grew in the valley, and much sweeter; she pulled sprays of them as she went along until she had a large straggling bunch to carry as well as her basket, and so at last entered Joshua's cottage with both hands full.

”Now, Uncle Joshua,” she said, when the first greetings over he had settled to his work again, ”I've come to dinner with you, and I've brought it along with me, and until it's ready you're not to look once into the kitchen. You couldn't never guess what it is, so you needn't try; and you mustn't smell it more nor you can help while it's cooking.”

It was a proud moment for Lilac when, the fowl being roasted to a turn, the table nicely laid, and the bunch of flowers put exactly in the middle, she led the cobbler up to the feast. Even if Joshua had smelt the fowl he concealed it very well, and his whole face expressed the utmost astonishment, while Lilac watched him in an ecstasy of delight.

”My word!” he exclaimed, ”its fit for a king. I feel,” looking down at his clothes, ”as if I ought to have on my Sunday best.”

Lilac was almost too excited to eat anything herself, and presently, when she saw Joshua pause after his first mouthful, she enquired anxiously:

”Isn't it good, Uncle?”

”Fact is,” he answered, ”it's _too_ good. I don't really feel as how I ought to eat such dillicate food. Not being ill, or weak, or anyway picksome in my appet.i.te.”

”I made sure you'd say that,” said Lilac triumphantly; ”and I just made up my mind I'd cook it without telling what it was. You've got to eat it now, Uncle Joshua. You couldn't never be so ungrateful as to let it spoil.”

”There's Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng now,” said Joshua, stilt hesitating, ”a sickly ailing body as 'ud relish a morsel like this.”

It was not until Lilac had set his mind at rest by promising to take some of the fowl to Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng before she returned, that he was able to abandon himself to thorough enjoyment. Lilac knew then by his silence that her little feast was heartily appreciated, and she would not disturb him by a word, although there were many things she wanted to say. But at last Joshua had finished.

”A fatter fowl nor a finer, nor a better cooked one couldn't be,” he said, as he laid down his knife and fork. ”Not a bit o' dryness in the bird: juicy all through and as sweet as a nut.”

Ready now for a little conversation, he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe while Lilac stood near was.h.i.+ng the dishes and plates.

”It's thirty years ago,” he said, speaking in a jerky voice so as not to interfere with the comfort of his pipe, ”since I had a fowl for dinner-- and I mind very well when it was. It was my wedding-day. Away up in the north it was, and parson gave the feast.”

”Was that when you used to play the clar'net in church, Uncle?” asked Lilac.

Joshua nodded.

”We was a clar'net and a fiddle and a ba.s.s viol,” he said reflectively.

”Never kept time--the ba.s.s viol didn't. Couldn't never get it into his head. He wasn't never any shakes of a player--and he was a good feller too.”