White Lilac | Page 8

the dairy
had been properly worked, and the butter was the best you could get
anywhere round. There was the pasture land still, and a good lot of
cows, but since the Greenways had come there the supply of butter was
poor, and sometimes the whole quantity sent to market was so
carelessly made that it was sour. Whose fault was it? Mrs Greenways
would have said that Molly, the one overworked maid servant, was to
blame; but other people thought differently, and Mrs White was as
usual outspoken in her opinions to her sister-in-law: "It 'ull never be
any different as long as you don't look after the dairy yourself, or teach
Bella to do it. What does Molly care how the butter turns out?"
But Bella tossed her head at the idea of working, as she expressed it,
"like a common servant", or indeed at working at all. She considered
that her business in life was to be genteel, and to be properly genteel
was to do nothing useful. So she studied the fashion books which Gusta
sent from London, made up wonderful costumes for herself, curled her
hair in the last style, and read the stories about dukes and earls and
countesses which came out in the Family Herald.
The smart bonnets and dresses which Mrs Greenways and her
daughters wore on Sundays in spite of hard times and poor crops and
debt were the wonder of the whole congregation, and in Mrs White's
case the wonder was mixed with scorn. "Peter's the only one among 'em
as is good for anything," she sometimes said, "an' he's naught but a
puzzle-headed sort of a chap." Peter was the farmer's only son, a loutish
youth of fifteen, steady and plodding as his plough horses and almost
as silent.
It was April again, bright and breezy, and all the cherry trees at the
farm were so white with bloom that standing under them you could

scarcely see the sky. The grass in the orchard was freshly green and
sprinkled with daisies, amongst which families of fluffy yellow
ducklings trod awkwardly about on their little splay feet, while the
careful mother hens picked out the best morsels of food for them. This
food was flung out of a basin by Agnetta Greenways, who stood there
squarely erect uttering a monotonous "Chuck, chuck, chuck," at
intervals. Agnetta did not care for the poultry, or indeed for any of the
creatures on the farm; they were to her only troublesome things that
wanted looking after, and she would have liked not to have had
anything to do with them. Just now, however, there was a week's
holiday at the school, and she was obliged to use her leisure in helping
her mother, much against her will. Agnetta had a stolid face with a
great deal of colour in her cheeks; her hair was black, but at this hour it
was so tightly done up in curl papers that the colour could hardly be
seen. She wore an old red merino dress which had once been a smart
one, but was now degraded to what she called "dirty work", and was
covered with patches and stains. Her hands and wrists were very large,
and looked capable of hard work, as indeed did the whole person of
Agnetta from top to toe.
"Chuck, chuck, chuck," she repeated as she threw out the last spoonful;
then, raising her eyes, she became aware of a little figure in the distance,
running towards her across the field at the bottom of the orchard.
"Lor'!" she exclaimed aloud, "if here isn't Lilac White!"
It was a slight little figure clothed in a cotton frock which had once
been blue in colour, but had been washed so very often that it now
approached a shade of green; over it was a long straight pinafore
gathered round the neck with a string, and below it appeared blue
worsted stockings, and thick, laced boots. Her black hair was brushed
back and plaited in one long tail tied at the end with black ribbon, and
in her hand she carried a big sunbonnet, swinging it round and round in
the air as she ran. As she came nearer the orchard gate, it was easy to
see that she had some news to tell, for her small features worked with
excitement, and her grey eyes were bright with eagerness.
Agnetta advanced slowly to meet her with the empty basin in her hand,

and unlatched the gate.
"Whatever's the matter?" she asked.
Lilac could not answer just at first, for she had been running a long way,
and her breath came in short gasps. She came to a standstill under the
trees, and Agnetta stared gravely at her with her mouth wide open. The
two girls