"However," said Iden, always trying to round things off and make square edges smooth, "very likely you'll overtake her and pick her up." "Her wull go across the fields," said John. "Shan't see her." As he walked down the road home for his dog-trap he looked up at the corner of the wall, but she was not looking over then. Mrs. Iden had fetched her in, as it was time to dress. "I don't want to go," said Amaryllis, "I hate fairs--they are so silly." "But you must go," said Mrs. Iden. "Your grandfather sent a message last night; you know it's his dinner-day." "He's such a horrid old fellow," said Amaryllis, "I can't bear him." "How dare you speak of your grandfather like that? you are getting very rude and disrespectful." There was no depending on Mrs. Iden. At one time she would go on and abuse Granfer Iden for an hour at a time, calling him every name she could think of, and accusing him of every folly under the sun. At another time she would solemnly inform Amaryllis that they had not a farthing of money, and how necessary it was that they should be attentive and civil to him. Amaryllis very slowly put her hat on and the first jacket to hand. "What! aren't you going to change your dress?" "No, that I'm not." "Change it directly." "What, to go in and see that musty old----" "Change it directly; I _will_ be obeyed." Amaryllis composedly did as she was bid. One day Mrs. Iden humoured her every whim and let her do just as she pleased; the next she insisted on minute obedience. "Make haste, you'll be late; now, then, put your things on--come." So Amaryllis, much against her will, was bustled out of the house and started off. As John had foreseen, she soon quitted the road to follow the path across the fields, which was shorter. An hour or so later Iden came in from work as usual, a few minutes before dinner, and having drawn his quart of ale, sat down to sip it in the bow window till the dishes were brought. "You're not gone, then?" said Mrs. Iden, irritatingly. "Gone--wur?" said Iden, rather gruffly for him. "To fair, of course--like other people." "Hum," growled Iden. "You know your father expects all the family to come in to dinner on fair day; I can't think how you can neglect him, when you know we haven't got a shilling--why don't you go in and speak to him?" "You can go if you like." "I go!" cried Mrs. Iden. "I go!" in shrill accents of contempt. "I don't care a button for all the lardy-cake lot! Let him keep his money. I'm as good as he is any day. My family go about, and do some business----" "_Your_ family," muttered Iden. "The Flammas!" "Yes, _my_ family--as good as yours, I should think! What's your family then, that you should be so grand? You're descended from a lardy-cake!" "You be descended from a quart pot," said Iden.