And into Mr. Satterthwaite's phaeton she jumped, and away Mr.
Satterthwaite's phaeton went, with him and her in it.
"You had better step under shelter, Miss Haye," said Winthrop; "it is beginning to sprinkle pretty fast."
"No," said Elizabeth, "I'll go home — I don't mind it. I would rather go right home — I don't care for the rain."
"But you can't go without the umbrella," said Winthrop, "and that belongs to me."
"Well, won't you go with me?" said Elizabeth, with a look half doubtful and half daunted.
"Yes, as soon as it is safe. This is a poor place, but it is better than nothing. You must come in here and have patience till then."
He went in and Elizabeth followed him, and she stood there looking very doubtful and very much annoyed; eyeing the fast falling drops as if her impatience could dry them up. The little smithy was black as such a place should be; nothing looked like a seat but the anvil, and that was hardly safe to take advantage of.
"I wish there was something here for you to sit down upon," said Winthrop peering about, — "but everything is like Vulcan's premises. It is a pity I am not Sir Walter Raleigh for your behoof; for I suppose Sir Walter didn't mind walking home without his coat, and I do."
"He only threw off his cloak," said Elizabeth.
"I never thought of wearing mine this afternoon," said
Winthrop, "though I brought an umbrella. But see here, Miss
Elizabeth, — here is a box, one end of which, I think, may be
trusted. Will you sit down?"