‘I will wait fast enough.  You are not so bad as Emily,’ said Reginald, while Lily ran upstairs to equip herself.  When she came down, she was glad to find her escort employed in singeing the end of the tail of the old rocking-horse at the fire in the hall, so that she was not obliged to seek him in the drawing-room, where her plans would probably have met with opposition.  She had, however, objections to answer from an unexpected quarter.  Reginald was much displeased when she took possession of the pitcher of broth.

‘I will not walk with such a thing as that,’ said he, ’it makes you look like one of the dirty girls in the village.’

‘Then you ought, like the courteous Rinaldo, to carry it for me,’ said Lily.

‘I touch the nasty thing!  Faugh!  Throw it into the gutter, Lily.’

He made an attempt to dispose of it in that manner, which it required all Lily’s strength to withstand, as well as an imploring ’Now, Redgie, think of the poor old people.  Remember, you have promised.’

’Promised!  I never promised to walk with a greasy old pitcher.  What am I to do if we meet Miss Weston?’

Lily contrived to overcome Reginald’s refined notions sufficiently to make him allow her to carry the pitcher; and when he had whistled up two of the dogs, they proceeded merrily along the road, dirty and wet though it was.  Their walk was not entirely without adventures; first, they had to turn back in the path by the river side, which would have saved them half a mile, but was now flooded.  Then, as they were passing through a long lane, which led them by Edward Gage’s farm, a great dog rushed out of the yard, and fell upon the little terrier, Viper.  Old Neptune flew to the rescue, and to the great alarm of Lily, Reginald ran up with a stick; happily, however, a labourer at the same time came out with a pitchfork, and beat off the enemy.  These two delays, together with Reginald’s propensity for cutting sticks, and for breaking ice, made it quite late when they arrived at South End.  When there, they found that a kind neighbour had brought the old people their broth in the morning, and intended to go for her own when she came home from her work in the evening.  It was not often that Lily went to South End; the old people were delighted to see her, and detained her for some time by a long story about their daughter at service, while Reginald looked the picture of impatience, drumming on his knee, switching the leg of the table, and tickling Neptune’s ears.  When they left the cottage it was much later and darker than they had expected; but Lily was unwilling again to encounter the perils of the lane, and consulted her brother whether there was not some other way.  He gave notice of a cut across some fields, which would take them into the turnpike road, and Lily agreeing, they climbed over a gate into a pathless turnip field.  Reginald strode along first, calling to the dogs, while Lily followed, abstaining from dwelling on the awkward circumstance that every step she took led her farther from home, and rejoicing that it was so dark that she could not see the mud which plastered the edge of her petticoats.  After plodding through three very long fields, they found themselves shut in by a high hedge and tall ditch.