which was intended for the Martins, a poor old rheumatic couple, who lived at South End, the most distant part of the parish. Neither of them could walk as far as the New Court, and most of their neighbours had followed Farmer Gage, and had therefore been excluded from the distribution, so that there was no one to send. Lily, therefore, resolved herself to carry the broth to them, if she could find an escort, which was not an easy matter, as the frost had that morning broken up, and a good deal of snow and rain had been falling in the course of the day. In the hall she met Reginald, just turned out of Maurice's workshop, and much at a loss for employment.
'Redgie,' said she, 'you can do me a great kindness.'
'If it is not a bore,' returned Reginald.
'I only want you to walk with me to South End.'
'Eh?' said Reginald; 'I thought the little Misses were too delicate to put their dear little proboscises outside the door.'
'That is the reason I ask you; I do not think Emily or Jane would like it, and it is too far for Claude. Those poor old Martins have not got their broth, and there is no one to fetch it for them.'
'Then do not be half an hour putting on your things.'
'Thank you; and do not run off, and make me spend an hour in hunting for you, and then say that I made you wait.'
'I will wait fast enough. You are not so bad as Emily,' said Reginald, while Lily ran upstairs to equip herself. When she came down, she was glad to find her escort employed in singeing the end of the tail of the old rocking-horse at the fire in the hall, so that she was not obliged to seek him in the drawing-room, where her plans would probably have met with opposition. She had, however, objections to answer from an unexpected quarter. Reginald was much displeased when she took possession of the pitcher of broth.
'I will not walk with such a thing as that,' said he, 'it makes you look like one of the dirty girls in the village.'
'Then you ought, like the courteous Rinaldo, to carry it for me,' said Lily.
'I touch the nasty thing! Faugh! Throw it into the gutter, Lily.'
He made an attempt to dispose of it in that manner, which it required all Lily's strength to withstand, as well as an imploring 'Now, Redgie, think of the poor old people. Remember, you have promised.'
'Promised! I never promised to walk with a greasy old pitcher. What am I to do if we meet Miss Weston?'
Lily contrived to overcome Reginald's refined notions sufficiently to make him allow her to carry the pitcher; and when he had whistled up two of the dogs, they proceeded merrily along the road, dirty and wet though it was. Their walk was not entirely without adventures; first, they had to turn back in the path by the river side, which would have saved them half a mile, but was now flooded. Then, as they were passing through a long lane, which led them by Edward Gage's farm, a great dog rushed out of the yard, and fell upon the little terrier, Viper. Old Neptune flew to the rescue, and to the great alarm of Lily, Reginald ran up with a stick; happily, however, a labourer at the same time came out with a pitchfork, and beat off the enemy. These two delays, together with Reginald's propensity for cutting sticks, and for breaking ice, made it quite late when they arrived at South End. When there, they found that a kind neighbour had brought the old people their broth in the morning, and intended to go for her own when she came home from her work in the evening. It was not often that Lily went to South End; the old people were delighted to see her, and detained her for some time by a long story about their daughter at service, while Reginald looked the picture of impatience, drumming on his knee, switching the leg of the table, and tickling Neptune's ears. When they left the cottage it was much later and darker than they had expected; but Lily was unwilling again to encounter the perils of the lane, and consulted her brother whether there was not some other way. He gave notice of a cut across some fields, which would take them into the turnpike road, and Lily agreeing, they climbed over a gate into a pathless turnip field. Reginald strode along first, calling to the dogs, while Lily followed, abstaining from dwelling on the awkward circumstance that every step she took led her farther from home, and rejoicing that it was so dark that she could not see the mud which plastered the edge of her petticoats. After plodding through three very long fields, they found themselves shut in by a high hedge and tall ditch.
'That fool of a farmer!' cried Reginald.
'What is to be done?' said Lily, disconsolately.
'There is the road,' said Reginald. 'How do you propose to get into it?'
'There was a gap here last summer,' said the boy.
'Very likely! Come back; try the next field; it must have a gate somewhere.'
Back they went, after seeing the carrier's cart from Raynham pass by.
'Redgie, it must be half-past five! We shall never be in time. Aunt Rotherwood coming too!'
After a desperate plunge through a swamp of ice, water, and mud, they found themselves at a gate, and safely entered the turnpike road.
'How it rains!' said Lily. 'One comfort is that it is too dark for any one to see us.'
'Not very dark, either,' said Reginald; 'I believe there is a moon if one could see it. Ha! here comes some one on horseback. It is a gray horse; it is William.'
'Come to look for us,' said Lily. 'Oh, Redgie!'
'Coming home from Raynham,' said Reginald. 'Do not fancy yourself so important, Lily. William, is that you?'
'Reginald!' exclaimed William, suddenly checking his horse. 'Lily, what is all this?'
'We set out to South End, to take the broth to the old Martins, and we found the meadows flooded, which made us late; but we shall soon be at home,' said Lily, in a make-the-best-of-it tone.
'Soon? You are a mile and a half from home now, and do you know how late it is?'
'Half-past five,' said Lily.
'Six, at least; how could you be so absurd?' William rode quickly on; Reginald laughed, and they plodded on; at length a tall dark figure was seen coming towards them, and Lily started, as it addressed her, 'Now what is the meaning of all this?'
'Oh, William, have you come to meet us? Thank you; I am sorry-'
'How were you to come through the village in the dark, without some one to take care of you?'
'I am taking care of her,' said Reginald, affronted.
'Make haste; my aunt is come. How could you make the people at home so anxious?'
William gave Lily his arm, and on finding she was both tired and wet, again scolded her, walked so fast that she was out of breath, then complained of her folly, and blamed Reginald. It was very unpleasant, and yet she was very much obliged to him, and exceedingly sorry he had taken so much trouble.
They came home at about seven o'clock. Jane met them in the hall, full of her own and Lady Rotherwood's wonderings; she hurried Lily upstairs, and-skilful, quick, and ready-she helped her to dress in a very short time. As they ran down Reginald overtook them, and they entered the drawing-room as the dinner-bell was ringing. William did not appear for some time, and his apologies were not such as to smooth matters for his sister.
Perhaps it was for this very reason that Mr. Mohun allowed Lily to escape with no more than a jesting reproof. Lord Rotherwood wished to make his cousin's hardihood and enterprise an example to his sister, and, in his droll exaggerating way, represented such walks as every-day occurrences. This was just the contrary to what Emily wished her aunt to believe, and Claude was much diverted with the struggle between her politeness to Lord Rotherwood and her desire to maintain the credit of the family.
Lady Florence, though liking Lilias, thought this walk extravagant. Emily feared Lilias had lost her aunt's good opinion, and prepared herself for some hints about a governess. It was untoward; but in the course of the evening she was a little comforted by a proposal from Lady Rotherwood to take her and Lilias to a ball at Raynham, which was to take place in January; and as soon as the gentlemen appeared, they submitted the
