perfection up
to Nature.

Willie nodded at Loveday with a trifle less of sulkiness in his manner,
took a step forward and relapsed once more. A little silence seemed to
catch them all, broken by good Mrs. Lear saying:

"You'm early to-day, Loveday. Milken's not over yet."

"I'm come to see you a moment, if 'tes possible," said Loveday, some of
her shining confidence already fallen from her, she knew not why.

"Well," said Primrose spitefully, guessing her presence would embarrass
Loveday, "Mrs. Lear's here and I daresay'll speak to 'ee. Can't be any
secret from me, of course, whatever 'tes."

Mrs. Lear, suddenly sorry for Loveday, although Primrose on entering the
day before had told her a tale that had angered her, said:

"Come into dairy, Loveday; you can tell me what 'tes while I see to your
aunt's bit of butter."

Loveday followed her into the cool dairy, where on the scrubbed
white wood shelves the great red earthen pans stood in rows holding
their thick crinkled cream, which Loveday never saw without a thought
of awe for her mother's miracle, and the waves that had surged over
her father's head. Thought of it now restored her sense of her own
power--the cream was ever for her a symbol of divine interposition, and
if her own parents had been found worthy of such a sign, why should not
she too have that something apart and strong which forced signs from the
very heavens, that something apart which indeed she could not but feel
sure she possessed, never with such a gladness in the certainty until
the miraculous yesterday?

Eagerly she unfolded her plans to Mrs. Lear, her words falling forth in
a rush as hurried as a moorland stream after rain, yet as clear too, and
as she spoke of her hopes and plans her black eyes scanned Mrs. Lear's
face more in faith than anxiety. But Mrs. Lear wore a strange look that
to one less eager than the girl would have shown as pity.

"Softly, Loveday, softly," she said at last, "while I see if I can
get to the rights of this. You want to earn money for yourself this
next month to buy your white riband with. Have 'ee thought 'tes an
extravagant purchase for a maid like you, who should be putten any
money into warm flannel or a pair of good boots?"

"I don't want boots, Mrs. Lear, I don't want nothing on the earth but my
satin sash so I can dance with her in the Flora. I want it more than to
save my soul, that I do; I'll go through anything to get it. I'll work
like ten maids f