The purchase was made. There was no basket, and Terry was glad that she had three nice, soft pockets in her coat, into each of which she put an egg. After that the cart jogged on more quickly than before, as the fog had lifted so far as that Terry could see all around her.
"I see someone awfully like Turly; just there in the distance," said Terry. "Do you see, Mr.—"
"My name's Reilly," said the carter.
"Thank you, Mr. Reilly. I'm dreadfully afraid it's Turly!"
"Who is Turly, and why are you afraid it's him?"
"Turly is my brother, Turlough Trimleston. I'm afraid because he oughtn't to be out riding on a donkey this foggy morning."
"No more nor his sister riding on a pony. I hope he hasn't broken the donkey's knees," said Reilly.
"I hope not. I don't think so, or he wouldn't be riding it. It really is Turly, and he won't be at home to tell Nurse what has become of me.—Oh, Turly, Turly, why did you come after me when I told you not to?"
"I said I would come," said Turly.
Reilly had pulled up while Turly was being interviewed. The little boy sat on a bare-backed donkey, himself looking rather at loose ends, with evidences of having dressed himself hastily without any finishing-up from Nurse Nancy.