"Now come on, Miss, as fast as you can," said Betty; "the drops are already falling on the dust at our feet."
They went on a few paces without another word, and then Miss Bessy screamed:
"Oh, Betty, the other string has gone snap: have you another pin?"
"Miss, Miss!" said Betty, fumbling for a pin, and in her hurry not being able to find one. Once more Miss Bessy was what soldiers call in marching order, and they made,
may be, a hundred paces, without any other difficulty but the falling of the rain, though as yet it was only the skirts of the shower. The house was in view, and was not distant three hundred yards by the road, and somewhat less over a field.
"Let us go over the field," said Bessy.
"No, no," replied Betty, bustling on. "If the gate on the other side should be locked—and John often keeps it so—we should be quite at fault."
"And what sort of a gate must it be," said Bessy, "that you and I could not get over?"
"We had better keep the road, Miss," replied Betty; "the grass must be wet already with the little rain which is come."
"And yet it has scarce laid the dust in the road," returned Bessy; "so if you choose to keep to the road, I shall take the field; so good-bye to you;" and the next minute she was over the stile, and running across the grass.