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 to go wi'out them?" exclaimed Mistress Todd angrily.

"Aye." Sally pushed the tangled red-gold curls out of her eyes and glanced at the other appealingly. "But it be so warm this May day, and—and the grass was so soft and cool out in you orchard; and then I came up to the hayloft, and 'twas so very nice—ye can't think, Mistress Todd," Sally's eyes grew dreamy, "so sweet the hay makes it up there, and the drone o' the bees coming in the open door, and the fluttering o' pigeons' wings, and the dusty cobwebs blowing at the windows like fairy lace—ah, 'twas nice!"

"Tush!" Mistress Todd, who had been listening in spite of herself, now turned away crossly. "Think ye I ha' time to stand here a-listening to your idle chatter, Sally? Hurry ye! Parson Chapman be here, as ye heard Mary say, and he may wish to see ye."

Sally stood silent a long moment after the lady had switched indignantly out of the barn. Then she sighed; and stepping out into the premature heat of the May afternoon, she followed Mistress Todd to the house.

Entering the buttery, a lean-to through which one had to pass to reach the kitchen door from the rear of the house, Sally paused in great distress. Parson Chapman was already seated in the kitchen, doubtless drinking the buttermilk offered him by his hostess after his long, hot ride from the settle-