‘I’m only getting a dear little crab, Sweet Honey,’ and the four little feet went deeper and deeper into the black mud.
‘I can’t have it done! come back, children, I desire, directly.’
The boy would have turned, but his sister had hold of his hand. ‘Owen, there he is! I’ll have him,’ and as the crab scuttled sidelong after the retreating tide, on plunged the children.
‘Lucy, come here!’ cried the unfortunate old hen, as her ducklings took to the black amphibious mass, but not a whit did Lucilla heed. In the ardour of the chase, on she went, unheeding, leaving her brother sticking half way, where having once stopped, he began to find it difficult to withdraw his feet, and fairly screamed to ‘Sweet Honey’ for help. His progress was not beyond what a few long vigorous steps of hers could come up with, but deeply and blackly did she sink, and when she had lifted her truant out of his two holes, the increased weight made her go ankle deep at the first tread, and just at the same moment a loud shriek proclaimed that Lucilla, in hey final assault on the crab, had fallen flat on a yielding surface, where each effort to rise sank her deeper, and Honora almost was expecting in her distress to see her disappear altogether, ere the treacherous mud would allow her to come to the rescue. But in that instant of utmost need, ere she could set down the little boy, a gentleman, with long-legged strides, had crossed the intervening space, and was bearing back the young lady from her mud bath. She raised her eyes to thank him. ‘Humfrey!’ she exclaimed.
‘Honor! so it was you, was it? I’d no notion of it!’ as he placed on her feet the little maiden, encrusted with mud from head to foot, while the rest of the party were all apparently cased in dark buskins of the same.
‘Come to see me and my children?’ she said. ‘I am ashamed you should find us under such circumstances! though I don’t know what would have become of us otherwise. No, Lucy, you are too disobedient for any one to take notice of you yet—you must go straight home, and be cleaned, and not speak to Mr. Charlecote till you are quite good. Little Owen, here he is—he was quite led into it. But how good of you to come, Humfrey: where are you?’
‘At the hotel—I had a mind to come and see how you were getting on, and I’d had rather more than usual to do of late, so I thought I would take a holiday.’
They walked on talking for some seconds, when presently as the squire’s hand hung down, a little soft one stole into it, and made him exclaim with a start, ‘I thought it was Ponto’s nose!’
But though very fond of children, he took up his hand, and did not make the slightest response to the sly overture of the small coquette, the effect as Honor well knew of opposition quite as much as of her strong turn for gentlemen. She pouted a little, and then marched on with ‘don’t care’ determination,
while Humfrey and Honora began to talk over Hiltonbury affairs, but were soon interrupted by Owen, who, accustomed to all her attention, did not understand her being occupied by any one else. ‘Honey, Honeypots,’ and a pull at her hand when she did not immediately attend, ‘why don’t the little crabs get black legs like mine?’