In those days it was the custom for shearers to form themselves into companies, called after the district in which they lived, and to go round to the various farms in the district in the shearing season, which begins in the middle of June, shearing the different flocks. The shearers in those days were generally shepherds, and each band had a lieutenant and a captain, the former distinguished by a silver band round his cap and a badge, the latter by a gold band and badge to match. They were chosen according to their proficiency in shearing, and for the good character they bore. John Shelley had been a lieutenant for some years, but he was now elected captain, owing to the death of the captain of the Lewes band, an old man over seventy; and with this honour some new duties devolved upon him, for at the captain’s house was held the shearing feast, called the White Ram. This feast lasted throughout the shearing week, and consisted of a supper after the day’s work was over; first, a good, substantial meal, in which the Sussex dish of beefsteak pudding, the crust made of flour and water, played an important part, and then ending with cakes and ale, during the consumption of which shearing songs were sung and many pipes were smoked till late in the long summer evening, when the men dispersed—sometimes not before midnight—to their various homes. These bands are now a thing of the past, though the shearing is still done by men who go round for the purpose, but no lambs are shorn nowadays, so the work is very much lessened. “There is plenty of work for you, Polly; you’ll have to get someone in to help you; we shall have to have the White Ram here for the future,” said John. “Oh, what fun!” exclaimed Fairy; “now I shall see it all, and hear the shearing songs. Mother, you must let me help; John says no one can make plum heavies, not even you, mother, like me: can they, John?” “No, but I am thinking those little white fingers of yours are not fit for that sort of work, my pretty one,” said John. “Stuff! white fingers can work as well as red ones—better, I daresay, if the truth were known. And may I help to wait on you?” asked Fairy. “No, certainly not,” growled Jack; “you listen outside to the shearing songs with me, but you are not going inside to wait on a lot of rough men, who will, perhaps, take more beer than they ought.” “No, Jack; I’ll have none of that; it shall never be said that John Shelley’s White Ram is disgraced by drunkenness. But you must come to the feast, even if Fairy does not, for you must go round shearing this year; it is time you began, if, as I hope, one of these days you are to take my place of captain.” “There’s an honour for you, Captain Jack. Don’t you wish you may ever get it?” laughed Fairy.