"It is absurd to talk of an escort, when we have old John on the box to take care of us," called out Miss Lorraine, who had taken her place within the carriage.
But Guy seemed now to wish to come. "Wait one moment," he cried, and ran back into the house. In a minute he returned, carrying a long, odd-shaped bundle, wrapped in newspaper, which he laid carefully on the seat before him as he took his place.
"Whatever precious thing have you there, Guy?" asked Aldyth, as they drove off.
Guy looked slightly embarrassed by the question. He unrolled the paper a little, and displayed a number of fine bulrushes.
"I thought I would leave these for Hilda Bland," he said, awkwardly. "She was wanting some the other day, and asked me where they could be found. I got these down Pentlow way; there's some marshy land there."
"It is good to be Hilda," said Aldyth. "You never get bulrushes for me, Guy."
"I did not know you cared about them," he said.
Aldyth laughed mischievously. Guy's colour rose. Miss Lorraine looked from one to the other with an air of bewilderment.
"Don't forget to leave the bulrushes," were Aldyth's parting words to her cousin, as she sprang out of the carriage at her aunt's gate.
"I believe you want me to give you some of them, but I will not," he said. He got back into the carriage, having declined an invitation to enter the house, and drove off.