u are wrong, at
all events," she persisted, "about papa's being in the house, for I
saw him leave it, more than half an hour ago, and walk off on the
Bawtry road."

"He has gone to meet mother, then," said Kezzy, "and poor Sander will
have to trudge the last two miles."

"Pray Heaven, then, they do not quarrel!" sighed Emilia, shutting the
book.

"My dear!" Hetty assured her, "that is past praying for. She will be
weary to death; and he, as you know, is in a mood to-day! Though you
thought it unfeeling, I rejoiced when he announced he was not riding
to Bawtry to meet her but would send Sander instead: for whatever
news she brought he would have picked holes in it and wrangled all
the way home. But this is his masterpiece. It contrives to get the
most annoyance out of both plans. I often wonder"--here Hetty
clasped her knee again, and, leaning back against the turf, let her
eyes wander over the darkening landscape--"if our father and mother
love each other the better for living together in one perpetual rasp
of temper?"

"What is the hour?" asked Emilia.

Hetty glanced at the sun.

"Six, or a few minutes past."

"She cannot be here before half-past seven, and by then the moon will
be rising. We will give her a regal harvest-supper, and enthrone her
on the last sheaf. I have sent word to have it saved. And there
shall be a fire, and baked potatoes."

Kitty clapped her hands.

"And," Hetty took up the tale, "she shall sit by the embers and tell
us all her wanderings, like Aeneas, till the break of morning.
But before we bid Johnny Whitelamb desist from drawing and build a
fire, let us be six princesses here and choose the gifts our mother
shall bring home from town."

"You know well enough she has no money to buy gifts," objected Patty.

"Be frugal, then, in wishing, dear Pat. For my part, I demand only a
rich Indian uncle: but he must be of solid gold. He should come to
us along the Bawtry road in a palanquin with bells jingling at the
fringes. Ann, sister Ann, run you to the top of the mound and say if
you see such an uncle coming. Moll, dear, 'tis your turn to wish."

"I wish," said Molly, "for a magic mirror." Hetty gave a start,
thinking she spoke of a glass which should hide her deformity.
But Molly went on gravely. "I should call it my Why Mirror, for it
would show us why we live as we do, and why mother goes ill-clothed
and sometimes hungry. No, I am not grumbling; but sometimes I wi