Amaryllis composedly did as she was bid.
One day Mrs. Iden humoured her every whim and let her do just as she pleased; the next she insisted on minute obedience.
"Make haste, you'll be late; now, then, put your things on—come."
So Amaryllis, much against her will, was bustled out of the house and started off. As John had foreseen, she soon quitted the road to follow the path across the fields, which was shorter.
An hour or so later Iden came in from work as usual, a few minutes before dinner, and having drawn his quart of ale, sat down to sip it in the bow window till the dishes were brought.
"You're not gone, then?" said Mrs. Iden, irritatingly.
"Gone—wur?" said Iden, rather gruffly for him.
"To fair, of course—like other people."
"Hum," growled Iden.
"You know your father expects all the family to come in to dinner on fair day; I can't think how you can neglect him, when you know we haven't got a shilling—why don't you go in and speak to him?"