As if reading her mind, the High Priest spoke glumly, “The harvest is plentiful, but the offerings are poor.”
And the harvest was excellent this year, Emmeline thought. Her family had gathered in more corn than she had ever seen. Her father’s basket was large and full of the best ears they could find in the harvest. Her own basket, a larger one than last season because she could carry more now, brimmed with her own golden offering of large, perfect ears. Should Lord Aufeese not be insulted? she thought. Why should he stand there mutely, benignly welcoming those who have insulted him with pathetic offerings? It perplexed her that the god of the harvest would not immediately strike down those who had made this demeaning offering. But he stood their mutely while they blithely carried on thei
