Harriet wore her favourite pistachio ribbon round her cap and as a breast-knot, and her cheeks bore token of one of the various washes with which she was always striving to regain the smoothness of her complexion.  Knowing what this betokened, an elder-sisterly instinct of caution actuated Betty to remind her juniors of an engagement made with Dame Jewel of the upland farm for the exchange of a setting of white duck’s eggs for one of five-toed fowls, and to request them to carry the basket.

Eugene danced on his chair and begged to be of the party; but Harriet pouted, and asked why the “odd boy” could not be sent.

“Because, as you very well know, if he did not break, he would addle, every egg in the basket.

“There can be no need to go to-day.”

“The speckled hen is clocking to brood, and she is the best mother in the yard.  Besides, it is time that the cowslip wine were made, and I will give you some bread and cheese and gingerbread for noonchin, so that you may fill your baskets in the meadows before they are laid up for grass.  Mrs. Jewel will give you a drink of milk.”

“O let me go, sister!” pleaded Eugene.  “She gives us bread and honey!  And I want to hear the lapwings in the meadows cry pee-wit.”

“We shall have you falling into the river,” said Harriet, rather fretfully.

“No, indeed!  If you fall in, I will pull you out.  Young maids should not run about the country without a gentleman to take care of them.  Should they, sister?” cried the doughty seven years’ old champion.

“Who taught you that, sir?” asked Betty, trying to keep her countenance.

“I heard Mrs. Churchill say so to my papa,” returned the boy.  “So now, there’s a good sister.  Do pray let me go!”

“If you say your tasks well, and will promise to be obedient to Harriet and to keep away from the river, and not touch the basket of eggs.”

Eugene was ready for any number of promises; and Harriet, seeing there was no escape for her, went off with Aurelia to put on their little three-cornered muslin handkerchiefs and broad-brimmed straw hats, while Eugene repeated his tasks, namely, a fragment of the catechism, half a column of spelling from the Universal Spelling-Book, and (Betty’s special pride) his portion of the Orbis Sensualium Pictus of Johannes Amos Comenius, the wonderful vocabulary, with still more wonderful “cuts,” that was then the small boys path to Latinity.

The Eagle, Aquila, the King of Birds, Rex Avium, looketh at the Sun, intuetur Solem, as indeed he could hardly avoid doing, since in the “cut” the sun was within a hairsbreath of his beak, while his claws were almost touching a crow (Corvus) perched on a dead horse, to exemplify how Aves Raptores fed on carrion.