white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped on the edge of a puddle,
and some of the muddy water had bespattered her frock. A circle of
children had surrounded her, and some of the motherly little girls were
on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously, while one of them wiped
away the tears that were running down her pretty cheeks. I looked! It
was fatal! I did not look again, but I was smitten to the very heart! I
did not speak to her for six years, but when I did, it was all right with
both of us, thank God! and I've been in love with her ever since, when
she behaves herself!"

That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! how much
sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of the town! Who
would not be a Goose Girl, "to win the secret of the weed's plain heart"?
It seems to me that in society we are always gazing at magic-lantern
shows, but here we rest our tired eyes with looking at the stars.




CHAPTER XI


July 16th.

Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington. It was for the
purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen, and our local
Countess, who is much interested in poultry, was in the chair.

It was a very learned body, but Phoebe had coached me so well that at the
noon recess I could talk confidently with the members, discussing the