e corner poles and looped the whole with festoons of roses.

And now for the motto to crown the work! Fancy Tabb coming up the
roadway and pausing while she conned the structure, shading her eyes
against the sun-rays that slanted over it, beheld Mrs Bowldler and
Palmerston issue from the doorway in solemn procession, bearing between
them a length of Turkey twill. Mrs Bowldler passed one end up to
Captain Hocken, high on his ladder: Captain Hunken reached down and took
the other end from Palmerston. Between them, as they lifted the broad
fillet above the archway, its folds fell apart, and she read:--

MANY DAUGHTERS HAVE DONE VIRTUOUSLY
BUT THOU EXCELLEST THEM ALL.

"My! I'd like to be a Queen!"

"If I had my way, you WOULD," whispered Palmerston, who, edging close to
her, had overheard.

"Eh? Is that Fancy Tabb?" interrupted Cai. He had happened to glance
over his shoulder and spied her from the ladder. "Well, and what d'ee
think of it?" he asked, as one sure of the answer.

"I was sayin' as I'd like to be a Queen," said Fancy. "Queen of
England, I mean: none of your second-bests."

"Well, my dear," Cai assured her, bustling down the ladder and staring
up at the motto to make sure that it hung straight, "_that_ you won't
never be: but you're among the many as have done virtuously, and God
bless 'ee for it! Which is pretty good for your age."

"_You_'re not," retorted the uncompromising child.

"Eh?"

"'Tis three days now since you've been near the old man, either one of
'ee. How would _you_ like that, if you was goin' to hell?"

"Hush 'ee now! . . . 'Bias and me had clean forgot--there's so much to
do in all these rejoicin's! Run back and tell 'n we'll be down in
half-an-hour, soon as we've tidied up here."

On their way down to visit the sick man, Cai and 'Bias had to pause
half-a-score of times at least to admire an arch or a decorated
house-front. For by this time even the laggards were out and working
for the credit of Troy.

But no decorations could compare with their own.

"That's a handsome bunch, missus," called Cai to a very old woman, who,
perched on a borrowed step-ladder, was nailing a sheaf of pink valerian
(local name, "Pride of Troy") over her door-lintel. "Let me give 'ee a
hand wi' that hammer," he offered; for her hand shook pitiably.

"Ne'er a hand shall help me--thank 'ee all the same," the old lady
answered. "There, Cap'n! . . . t