Even Harriet could not be cross to him, though she made Aurelia carry
the eggs, and indulged in sundry petulant whisks of the fan which
she carried by way of parasol. "Now, why does Betty do this?" she
exclaimed, as soon as they were out of hearing. "Is it to secure
to herself the whole enjoyment of your beau?"
"You forget," said Aurelia. "You promised to fetch the eggs, when
we met Mrs. Jewel jogging home from market on her old blind white
horse last Saturday, because you said no eggs so shaken could ever
be hatched."
"You demure chit!" exclaimed Harriet; "would you make me believe that
you have no regrets for so charming a young gentleman, my Lady's son
and our kinsman."
"If he spoke to me I should not know how to answer. And then you would
blame my rudeness. Besides," she added, with childish sagacity, "he
can be nothing but a fine London macaroni. Only think of the cowslips!
A whole morning to make cowslip balls," she added with a little frisk.
"I would not give one for all the macaronies in England, with their
powder and their snuff-boxes. Faugh!"
"Ah, child, you will sing another note perhaps when it is too late,"
said her sister, with a sigh between envy and compassion.
It floated past Aurelia unheeded, as she danced up one side of a stile,
and sprang clear down into a green park, jumped Eugene down after her
by both hands, and exclaimed, "Harriet is in her vapours; come, let us
have a race!"
She was instantly careering along like a white butterfly in the
sunshine, flitting on as the child tried to catch her, among the snowy
hawthorn bushes, or sinking down for very joy and delight among the
bank of wild hyacinths.
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