‘Reginald!’ exclaimed William, suddenly checking his horse. ‘Lily, what is all this?’
‘We set out to South End, to take the broth to the old Martins, and we found the meadows flooded, which made us late; but we shall soon be at home,’ said Lily, in a make-the-best-of-it tone.
‘Soon? You are a mile and a half from home now, and do you know how late it is?’
‘Half-past five,’ said Lily.
‘Six, at least; how could you be so absurd?’ William rode quickly on; Reginald laughed, and they plodded on; at length a tall dark figure was seen coming towards them, and Lily started, as it addressed her, ‘Now what is the meaning of all this?’
‘Oh, William, have you come to meet us? Thank you; I am sorry—’
‘How were you to come through the village in the dark, without some one to take care of you?’
‘I am taking care of her,’ said Reginald, affronted.
‘Make haste; my aunt is come. How could you make the people at home so anxious?’
William gave Lily his arm, and on finding she was both tired and wet, again scolded her, walked so fast that she was out of breath, then complained of her folly, and blamed Reginald. It was very unpleasant, and yet she was very much obliged to him, and exceedingly sorry he had taken so much trouble.