Then one of the pretty county ladies rose and said how pleased _she_ was to be there, and how pleased everybody else was pleased, and how more than pleased everybody would be when they read about it in the papers, while the competitors wished she would hurry up and put them out of their misery, and thought how infinitely more desirable it was to stand on a platform and look charming and sweet and say all the right things in exactly the right way, with an adoring husband somewhere behind, than to make the best butter in the Three Kingdoms. After that, the certificates were given out, and the noble first-class came up blushing and bowing to receive the spoils of war. Finally, Dandy, for her duck-egg. It seemed to her that the tent was ten miles long and packed like a Military Tournament. She saw the examiner’s eyes bulging with pity, and wondered absently why they didn’t fall out. She heard her father’s big whisper: “Now then, Mother, don’t you fret! Don’t fret, Mother!” and knew that he was patting his wife’s hand. She heard the caretaker’s grunt. And at the foot of the steps she felt exactly as if hot needles were dancing red-slippered all over her, simply because there was one very ordinary person sitting on the platform, engaged in staring at his boots. But as she curtsied to the pretty lady and the duck-egg, wishing herself at Halsted for the last time in her life, Harriet came suddenly to her rescue. “Good lad, Dandy!” she bawled, clapping like a small thunderstorm, and the general embarrassment broke in a burst of amusement and applause. Everybody laughed; competitors, audience, the miserable examiner--thrilling with gratitude towards his late tormentor--and Dandy herself. Grumphy waddled forward to the extreme edge, and reached out a long, loving tongue. “I am sure we all appreciate Miss Shaw’s sporting effort!” the pretty lady said prettily, and there was more applause. Dandy looked up bravely and met Lanty’s eyes, turned on her at last as if they really saw her. “It was very bad butter!” she said candidly, putting out a hand to the rolling tongue, and raising a fresh laugh by her cheerful honesty. Lancaster leaned forward, smiling.