Albinia was delighted to find such an opening. Out came her knife--
they would cut the heads and take them up at once; but when the
tempting white-stalked, pink-tipped bundle had been made up and put
into a basket, a difficulty arose.

'I'll call the boy to take it,' said Lucy.

'What, when we are going ourselves?' said Albinia.

'Oh! but we can't.'

'Why? Do you think we shall break down under the weight?'

'O no, but people will stare.'

'Why--what should they stare at?'

'It looks _so_ to carry a basket--'

Albinia burst into one of her merriest peals of laughing.

'Not carry a basket! My dear, I have looked _so_ all the days of my
life. Bayford must endure the spectacle, so it may as well begin at
once.'

'But, dear mamma--'

'I'm not asking you to carry it. O no, I only hope you don't think
it too ungenteel to walk with me. But the notion of calling a boy