'I am only too glad that you should find refuge in the old place.'
He wheeled a couple of ponderous carved-oak chairs close to the hearth, and begged us to sit there; but Milly preferred standing in the noble old gothic window looking out at the rain.
'They will be getting anxious about us at home,' she said, 'if we are not back before dark.'
'I wish I possessed a close carriage to place at your service. I do, indeed, boast of the ownership of a dog-cart, if you would not be afraid of driving in such a barbarous vehicle when the rain is over. It would keep you out of the mud, at any rate.'
Milly laughed gaily.
'I have been brought up in the country,' she said, 'and am not at all afraid of driving in a dog-cart. I used often to go out with papa in his, before he married.'
'Then, when the storm is over, I shall have the pleasure of driving you to Thornleigh, if you will permit me that honour.'
Milly looked a little perplexed at this, and made some excuse about not wishing to cause so much trouble.
'I really think we could walk home very well; don't you, Mary?' she said; and I declared myself quite equal to the walk.
'It would be impossible for you to get back to Thornleigh before dark,' the gentleman remonstrated. 'I shall be quite offended if you refuse the use of my dog-cart, and insist on getting wet feet. I daresay your feet are wet as it is, by the bye.'