"I don't care when she is home—" She spoke vehemently, but then checked herself. "No, no; she won't be—can't be at home for a long time. It is only half-past eight now, and she will not be home till ten."
"But Dillywn's house is half a mile away."
"But if I ran through the wood no one would see me—and—you only would know of it. I want just to tell him to be on his guard. It wouldn't take me a moment. Don't you think"— feverishly—"that I might go?"
"Not alone, certainly. If you must see him, I'll go with you."
"Oh, Dicky, how good of you! Will you, really? Then come— come!"
"Without a hat?"
"Yes. What does a hat matter? And we haven't a moment to lose."
"Well, here goes!" said Dicky. He pulled her arm through his and together they went out of the gate, and, turning, ran down a slope that led to the wood on their left. Through this they went at full speed, the path being well defined, and Agatha's agitation giving her the speed of an Atalanta.
As they pulled up at the gate of Dillywn's cottage, a tiny establishment, standing by itself about a quarter of a mile from the village, Dicky pulled out his watch.
"We've beaten the record," said he; "I don't believe any one ever did the distance in so short a time. But, talking of time, Agatha —it's flying. I shall stay here, and give you just five minutes by this"—tapping his watch—"to rejoin me."