So away went he, with a graceful mien: and we home o’er the lake. All the way Edith saith nought but—“Milly, where didst thou pick up thy cavaliero?”
“Nay,” said I, “he it was who picked me up. He was leaning of a tree, of t’other side, over against Borrowdale: and I sat me down of a log, and saw him not till he spake.”
Edith said no more at that time. But in the even, when we were doffing us, and Nell was not yet come up, quoth she—
“Milly, is Sir Edwin something free to ask questions?”
“Oh, meterly,” (tolerably) said I.
“I trust thou gavest him not o’er full answers.”
“Oh, nought of import,” said I. “Beside, Edith, he is an old friend of Mother.”
“Is he so?” quoth she. “Then we can ask Mother touching him.”
Now, I could not have told any wherefore, but I had no list to ask Mother, nor had I told her so much as one word touching him. I believe I was half afeared she might forbid me to encourage him in talk. I trust Edith shall forget the same, for she hath not an over good memory.
Selwick Hall, November ye ix.