Deep in her heart she mistrusted that Herbert had planned this trip without telling his mother. She doubted if Mistress Lowry would let her ramble off the three miles to Nutfold with no better guard than this young boy. So she was much afraid lest she should be called back and forbidden to go a-fishing. She fairly tiptoed out of the house at Herbert's side, and never drew a long breath till she heard the garden gate close behind them. The two children were now quite sure of not being seen and stopped. But none the less Herbert, who was sly by nature, picked their path in the shelter of walls and hedges and through copses. In this stealthy way they went westward toward the wood that lay by the hamlet of Nutfold. Herbert was empty-handed. He bade Merrylips carry the creel in which their luncheon was packed, and true to her word, she did his bidding. When they reached the brook Herbert said:-- "Now thou mayst dig for worms, Sybil, while I cut me a fish-rod." Well, well! She had promised to do as he asked, and a gentleman must keep his word, so she took a stick and grubbed in the dirt for bait, while Master Herbert sat at his ease and trimmed an alder branch with his knife. As she worked, she wondered if she had not been foolish to come with Herbert. She should be punished, surely, for running away and leaving her knitting undone. And meanwhile she was not having at all a good time. As the morning passed, Merrylips found less and less pleasure in the sport to which she had looked forward. Again and again Herbert bade her bait his hook for him, and he made her carry the creel, but not once did he let her cast the line. It was his line, he said, when she timidly asked to have it only for one throw. It was his line, and he should use it, and in any case she could not catch a fish. She was but a girl. "I'd not need to be a skilled angler to do better than thou," answered Merrylips. "Thou hast not taken a fish this morning." "'Tis because thou hast frighted them away with thy clitter-clatter," scolded Herbert. "A fool I was to let thee come with me!" Almost at an open quarrel, they stumbled through the tangled sedges and trailing underwood upon the bank of the stream. The tireder Herbert grew, the crosser he was, and the worse luck he had with his fishing--and he had very bad luck!--the surer he was that Merrylips was to blame. Soon he began to mock and to tease her, and once, when she tripped over a fallen branch, he laughed outright. "You may laugh," cried Merrylips, "but haply you'd not find it easy to keep your feet, if you bore a great basket, and if you wore hateful petticoats a-dangling round your feet. I would that you had to wear petticoats but once!" "Thou'rt weeping now!" jeered Herbert. Merrylips made herself laugh in his face. "'Tis only silly boys that weep," said she. "When their fathers beat them, they snivel, and run with tales to their mothers."