Wherever the sun shone, a thaw went on, and this meant many muddy patches.
"Dear me, whatever will Mrs. Prue say?" Elisabeth again pulled out her watch. "We've got to turn back this minute, Miss Hecla. There ain't no time for the windmill to-day. Trip's hindered us a deal too long."
"What a pity! I do want to go round," exclaimed Hecla. "Couldn't we run very, very fast?"
"No, we couldn't, Miss Hecla, and we ain't agoing to try. I've had enough o' that!" Elisabeth turned resolutely round as she spoke, and set off.
And Hecla, after one deep sigh of disappointment, started running in advance.
Trip lagged behind, with drooping tail, very much disgusted, for he knew that this meant going home, and he didn't want to go home.
But Hecla, whatever her faults might be, was not in the habit of showing sulks when she could not have her own way.
"I know what I'll do," she cried suddenly. "I know what I'll do! The quarry is only just round that corner, and I do want to see if I can't find some snowdrops for Auntie Anne. It won't take a minute!"
She shouted the words, turning her head back; and before Elisabeth could open her mouth to protest, she was flying at full speed round the next turn to the right, down a little narrow lane, which led to a small quarry, long ago disused, and now well grown over with grass and bushes. A particularly steep path led to the bottom; and by the time Elisabeth arrived at the edge, Hecla had rushed down this path at break-neck pace—fortunately without any slip, or she might have rolled the whole way—and was diving eagerly among grass and moss in the farther corner.
Elisabeth stood waiting above, for she was not sure-footed, and she did not care to try that path.