Dilly walked on, quite bewildered. She had lost her fine, joyous
carriage; her shoulders were bent, and her feet shuffled, in a
discouraged fashion, over the unlovely bricks. Molly kept the lead,
with unconscious superiority.

"Le's go into the store now," she said, "an' swap off the eggs. You'll
be joggled in this crowd, an' break 'em all to smash. Here, you le' me
have your handkerchief! I'll see to it all." She kept the handkerchief
in her hand, after their slight "tradin'" had been accomplished; and
Dilly, too dispirited to offer a word, walked meekly about after her.

The Fair was held, according to ancient custom, in the town-hall, of
which the upper story had long been given over to Sudleigh Academy.
Behind the hall lay an enormous field, roped in now, and provided with
pens and stalls, where a great assemblage of live-stock lowed, and
grunted, and patiently chewed the cud.

"Le's go in there fust," whispered Dilly. "I sha'n't feel so strange
there as I do with folks. I guess if the four-footed creatur's can
stan' it, I can. Pretty darlin'!" she added, stopping before a heifer
who had ceased eating and was looking about her with a mild and
dignified gaze. Dilly eagerly sought out a stick, and began to scratch
the delicate head. "Pretty creatur'! Smell o' her breath, Molly! See
her nose, all wet, like pastur' grass afore day! Now, if I didn't want
to live by myself, I'd like to curl me up in a stall, 'side o' her."

"'Mandy, you an' Kelup come here!" called Aunt Melissa Adams. She
loomed very prosperous, over the way, in her new poplin and her
lace-trimmed cape. "Jest look at these roosters! They've got spurs on
their legs as long's my darnin'-needle. What under the sun makes 'em