The parlour contained but Robina. I hurried to the door; Dick was already half across the field. Veronica I could not see.
“We are making haste,” Dick shouted back, “in case it is early-closing day.”
“I want Veronica!” I shouted.
“What?” shouted Dick.
“Veronica!” I shouted with my hands to my mouth.
“Yes!” shouted Dick. “She’s on ahead.”
It was useless screaming any more. He was now climbing the stile.
“They always take each other’s part, those two,” sighed Robina.
“Yes, and you are just as bad,” I told her; “if he doesn’t, you do. And then if it’s you they take your part. And you take his part. And he takes both your parts. And between you all I am just getting tired of bringing any of you up.” (Which is the truth.) “How did this thing happen?”
“I had got everything finished,” answered Robina. “The duck was in the oven with the pie; the peas and potatoes were boiling nicely. I was feeling hot, and I thought I could trust Veronica to watch the things for awhile. She promised not to play King Alfred.”