"Every Sunday?"
Mary Ann hung her head. "Once I went meechin'," she said in low tones. "Some boys and girls they wanted me to go nutting, and I wanted to go too, but I didn't know how to get away, and they told me to cough very loud when the sermon began, so I did, and coughed on and on till at last the vicar glowed at father, and father had to send me out of church."
Lancelot laughed heartily. "Then you didn't like the sermon."
"It wasn't that, sir. The sun was shining that beautiful outside, and I never minded the sermon, only I did get tired of sitting still. But I never done it again—our little Sally, she died soon after."
Lancelot checked his laughter. "Poor little fool!" he thought. Then to brighten her up again he asked cheerily, "And what else did you do on the farm?"
"Oh, please sir, missus will be wanting me now."
"Bother missus. I want some more milk," he said, emptying the milk-jug into the slop-basin. "Run down and get some."
Mary Ann was startled by the splendour of the deed. She took the jug silently and disappeared.
When she returned he said: "Well, you haven't told me half yet. I suppose you kept bees?"
"Oh, yes, and I fed the pigs."