"And I mustn't be one minute late. Not one minute," pursued Elisabeth stolidly, though she began to move. "If I am, Mrs. Prue will begin laying of the table, soon as ever the clock strikes, and then—my! I shan't hear the end of it."
"Prue," otherwise Prudence Brown, was the servant who had been with the Miss Storeys for thirty years past. And it was thought more respectful for a young girl like Elisabeth to call her "Mrs. Prue."
"But we won't be late," declared Hecla. "Come along. Let's hurry."
"I don't mind starting that way, and then we'll see," Elisabeth said. "If you won't stop to look at every single thing, we could do it, Miss Hecla."
"Of course I won't," cried Hecla, setting off full speed.
And the next minute she came to a standstill, as a small fox-terrier, with muddy feet, rushed up and began leaping upon her. "Trip, you sweet dog, how nice! Trip means to come with us for a walk. He may, mayn't he?"
"Oh dear me, what a mess he is making of your frock, Miss Hecla!"
"Down, Trip, down!" shrieked Hecla, in fits of laughter, as Trip struggled to lick her nose. "You dear!" And she hugged him vehemently. "Come along—come! We'll run now, won't we?" And she started again, all unmindful of the muddy streaks down her skirt.
Elisabeth looked ruefully at those streaks, but she gave in, and hurried after the scampering child and dog. If they only kept going at this pace, there would be no difficulty in getting back by one o'clock.
Trip was the "Vicarage Dog," known to everybody in this small town of Nortonbury, and a great friend of Hecla. When Chris was at school, and when his master was busy in the study, Trip would sally forth alone in search of amusement. Sometimes he had to be content with racing after birds; sometimes he had the delight of a mad scramble after a cat; but if only he could come across Hecla, he was perfectly happy.