During supper nothing was spoken of but the fête—the balloon, the band, the fireworks, and the dresses, Charlotte Smith’s in particular. Lilac was intensely interested, and it was trying after the meal was over to have to help Molly in taking away the dishes, and lose so much of the conversation. This business over she drew near Agnetta and made an attempt to learn more, but in vain. Agnetta was in her loftiest mood, and though she was full of private jokes with Bella, she turned away coldly from her cousin. They had evidently some subject of the deepest importance to talk of which needed constant whispers, titters from Bella, and even playful slaps now and then. Lilac could hear nothing but “He says—She says,” and then a burst of laughter, and “go along with yer nonsense.” It was dull to be left out of it all, and she wished more than ever that she had gone to the fête too.
“Lilac,” said her aunt, “just run and fetch your uncle’s slippers.”
She was already on her way when the farmer took his pipe out of his mouth and looked round. He had been moody and cross all supper-time, and now he glanced angrily at his two daughters as they sat whispering in the corner.
“It’s someone else’s turn to run, it seems to me,” he said; “Lilac’s been at it all day. You go, Agnetta.” And as Agnetta left the room with an injured shrug, he continued:
“Seems too as if Lilac had all the work and none of the fun. You’d like an outing as well as any of ’em—wouldn’t you, my maid?”
Lilac did not know what to make of such unexpected kindness. As a rule her uncle seemed hardly to know that she was in the house. She did not answer, for she was very much afraid of him, but she looked appealingly at her aunt.
“I’m sure, Greenways,” said the latter in an offended tone, “you needn’t talk as if the child was put upon. And your own niece, and an orphan besides. I know my duty better. And as for holidays and fêtes and such, ’tisn’t nateral to suppose as how Lilac would want to go to ’em after the judgment as happened to her directly after the last one. Leastways, not yet awhile. There’d be something ondacent in it, to my thinking.”
“Well, there! it doesn’t need so much talking,” replied the farmer. “I’m not wanting her to go to fêtes. But there’s Mr Snell—he was asking for her yesterday when I met him. Let her go tomorrow and spend the day with him.”
“If there is a busier day than another, it’s Thursday,” said Mrs Greenways fretfully.
“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.”