nown what it would be like, but at home the
people are fond of asking us to their harvest feasts, and they always
behave well whilst we are there."

"No doubt they hold your father in respect."

"Yes," said Aurelia, unwilling to tell him how much alarmed and offended
she had been, though quite unintentionally. Dame Wheatfield only
intended hospitality; but in her eyes "Miss" was merely a poor
governess, and that to the little Waylands--mere interlopers in the eyes
of the Belamour tenantry. So the good woman had no idea that the rough
gallantry of the young farmer guests was inappropriate, viewing it as
the natural tribute to her guest's beauty, and mistaking genuine offence
for mere coyness, until, finding it was real earnest, considerable
affront was taken at "young madam's fine airs, and she only a poor
kinswoman of my Lady's!" Quite as ill was it received that the young
lady had remonstrated against the indigestible cakes and strange
beverages administered to all her charges, and above all to Amoret. She
had made her escape on the plea of early hours for the children, leaving
Molly behind her, just as the boisterous song was beginning in which
Jack kisses Bet, Joe kisses Sue, Tom kisses Nan, &c. down to poor
Dorothy Draggletail, who is left in the lurch. The farewell had been
huffy. "A good evening to you, madam; I am sorry our entertainment
was not more to your taste." She had felt guilty and miserable at the
accusation of pride, and she could not imagine how Mrs. Aylward could
have let her go without a warning; the truth being that Mrs. Aylward
despised her taste, but thought she knew what a harvest supper was like.

All this was passed over in silence by Aurelia's pride and delicacy. She
only described the scene when the last waggon came in with its load, the
horses decked with flowers and ribbons, and the farmer's youngest girl
enthroned on the top of the shocks, upholding the harvest doll. This was
a little sheaf, curiously constructed and bound with straw plaits
and ribbons. The farmer, on the arrival in the yard, stood on the
horse-block, and held it high over the heads of all the harvesters, and
the chorus was raised:

"A knack, a knack, a knack,
Well cut, well bound,
Well shocked, well saved from the ground,
Whoop! whoop! whoop!"

After which the harvest doll displaced her last year's predecessor over
the hearth, where she was t