y!' in hopeless bewilderment, his breath quite taken away at the
idea of such sudden action. 'Couldn't do't--couldn't do't. Got to go
down to Thirty Acre Corner: got to get out the reaping machine--a'
wants oiling, a' reckon; got some new hurdles coming; 'spects a chap
to call about them lambs;' a farmer can always find a score of reasons
for doing nothing.

'All rubbish!' cried Cicely, smiling.

'Nieces be main peart now-a-days,' said he, shutting one eye and
keeping it closed, as much as to say--I won't be driven. Then to me,
'There won't be many at market to-day.'

'I am hungry,' said Cicely softly; 'I should like some bread and
honey.'

'Aw; should 'ee?' in gentler tones; 'I'll get 'ee some: will'ee have
it in th' comb? I got a bit left.'

She knew his pride in his bees and his honey; hill farmers still keep
large stocks. He brought her a slice of home-baked bread and a piece
of comb. She took the comb in her white fingers, and pressed the
liquid gold from the cells; the luscious sweetness gathered from a
thousand flowers making her lips still sweeter. Uncle Bennet offered
me a jar full to the brim: 'Dip your vinger in,' said he.

'Why is the honey of the hills so much nicer?' asked Cicely, well
knowing, but drawing him on.

'It be th' clover and th' thyme, and summat in the air. There bean't
no hedges for um to fly up against, and so um carries home a bigger
load.'

'How many hives have you?' I inquired.

'Let's see'--he counted them up, touching a finger for each
twenty--'There be three score and sixteen; I have a' had six score
years ago, but folk don't care for honey now sugar be so cheap.'

'Let us go and see them,' said Cicely. We went out and looked at the
hives; they were all in a row, each protected by large 'pan-sherds'
from heavy rain, and placed along beneath the wall of the garden,
which sheltered them on one side. Uncle Bennet chatted pleasantly
about his bees for an hour, and would, I believe, have gossiped all
day, notwithstanding that he had so little time for anything. Nothing
more was said about the delayed visit, but just as we were on the
point of departure, and Cicely had already taken the reins, he said to
her, as if it were an afterthought, 'Tell your mother, I s'pose I must
look down that way next week.'

We passed swiftly through the little hamlet; the children had gathered
by a gateway to watch us. Though so far from the world, they were not
altogether without a spice of the