"No blunderbusses, I trust," said he, in a quavering tone. "I'm an orphan boy, guv'nor. Spare! oh, spare me!"
"Come, Dicky, come," cried Agatha, in a low voice. "Oh, I hope we shall be home before Aunt Hilda."
"I'm glad you thought of it!" said Mr. Browne wrathfully. "We've got just twenty minutes to do it in, and I'm not so young as I used to be. When next you take your walks abroad, I'd be thankful to you if you'd give yourself decent time to do them in. Twice I whistled. I am sure I need hardly say, Dillywn, that you did not try to detain her. On the contrary, I feel certain you did your utmost to hasten her departure. I hope you gave her a piece of your mind on the subject of unpunctuality. You ought, you know! You—as her lord and master."
"Dicky, are you coming?" said Agatha severely. She turned impetuously, and moved quickly into the shadow of the trees. Really, Dicky was too provoking! Mr. Browne, after a silent but most effective farewell to Dillwyn, followed her.
Just as they once more reached the little inside gate of the villa, the sound of wheels in the small avenue outside told them of Mrs. Greatorex's return.
"Cut for your life!" cried Mr. Browne in a tragic whisper, and without waiting for another word from her, he took his own advice, and bolting through the few shrubs, found himself presently safe but breathless on the public road, and almost in the arms of Dillwyn.
"So you followed the dear departed, after all," said Dicky. "What a thing is love! To tread in the footsteps of her is rapture. Or"—Mr. Browne paused and drew himself proudly up—"or else am I to understand, sir, that you distrusted me?"
Dillwyn drew his arm within his.
"You know all about it," said he. "Come back with me and have a pipe and a whisky-and-soda."
We all know what that meant! But Mr. Browne was of a high courage. He accepted the invitation.