to do—so much that I cannot do it," and again she sighed. [Pg 65] "Why, that is odd," said the Dame, patting her butter; "I have so much to do that I must do it." She knit her brows and tried to think of an answer, but the answers that came to her mind had a foolish sound as she tried them over, so she said nothing. "The Farm lets no one rest," the Dame went on, "and you must know that everything you brought with you this morning, the willow basket, the napkin, the egg, the wheaten flour, the honey, all were made here, and that means much work for many hands." Now this put her in mind of something she had thought of before. "But surely this is not the usual fashion in this country," she said curiously, "nor your quaint-figured gowns, nor much else about the place, for that matter. All this labour in flax and willow and dairy-house[Pg 66] seems like some old picture or some ancient song—who has devised it, pray?" [Pg 66] "Aye, we keep the old ways," said the Dame quietly; "there must be some to do it or they will be lost, I am thinking." "But so near the city," she said, and again the Dame looked strangely at her. "Are we so near, then?" said she. She knit her brows and it seemed that her mind, so clear since she woke, was clouded as to all before that; only the feeling of some great trouble, some dusty hurry, some ruinous failure haunted her. Also for the first time that day she found herself afraid. "You have not yet told me the name of this town," she said, trying to be calm. "It is not a town, my dear, it is called the Farm," said the Dame, putting the finished rolls of butter in a brown crock; "there is no town near us." "But there must be!" she persisted; "you are teasing me. There are always[Pg 67] towns, and they are never far from each other in these parts." [Pg 67] "I do not know them, then," said the Dame, gathering her keys and leaving the dairy, "though in truth, my dear, I am a poor judge of such matters, for beyond the Farm—and it is large—I do not go, being too busy always."
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