places the half-ripe corn was already cut, and piled in
thinly-scattered sheaves over the fields.

After the doctor left, my father sent for me and all his household:
in the which, creeping humbly after the woman-kind, was now numbered
the lad Jem. That Abel Fletcher was not quite himself was proved by
the fact that his unlighted pipe lay on the table, and his afternoon
tankard of ale sank from foam to flatness untouched.

He first addressed Jael. "Woman, was it thee who cooked the dinner
to-day?"

She gave a dignified affirmative.

"Thee must give us no more such dinners. No cakes, no pastry
kickshaws, and only wheaten bread enough for absolute necessity. Our
neighbours shall not say that Abel Fletcher has flour in his mill,
and plenty in his house, while there is famine abroad in the land.
So take heed."

"I do take heed," answered Jael, staunchly. "Thee canst not say I
waste a penny of thine. And for myself, do I not pity the poor? On
First-day a woman cried after me about wasting good flour in starch--
to-day, behold."

And with a spasmodic bridling-up, she pointed to the bouffante which
used to stand up stiffly round her withered old throat, and stick out
in front like a pouter pigeon. Alas! its glory and starch were alike
departed; it now appeared nothing but a heap of crumpled and
yellowish muslin. Poor Jael! I knew this was the most heroic