Kepeharme Lane left behind, where the topography of the holes was tolerably familiar, Derette had to walk more guardedly. After getting pretty well splashed, and dodging a too attentive pig which was intent on charging her for venturing on his beat, Derette at last found herself at the Osney Gate. She felt now that half her task was over. "Who goes there?" demanded the welcome voice of Stephen, when Derette rapped at the gate. "It's me, Stephen,--Derette: do let me in." The gate stood open in a moment, and Stephen's pleasant face appeared behind it, with a look of something like consternation thereon. "Derette!--alone!--whatever is the matter?" "Nothing, Stephen; oh, nothing's the matter. I only came alone because I knew Mother wouldn't let me if I asked her." "Hoity-toity!--that's a nice confession, young woman! And pray what are you after, now you have come?" "Stephen--dear, good Stephen, will you do me a favour?" "Hold off, you coaxing sinner!" "Oh, but I want it so much! You see, she gave it up because Mother wanted a rug, and she let her have the money--and I know it won't mend up to wear any thing like through the winter--and I do want so to get her another--a nice soft one, that will be comfortable, and--You'll help me, won't you, Steenie?" And Derette's small arms came coaxingly round her cousin's wrist. "I'm a heathen Jew if I have the shadow of a notion what I'm wanted to help! `A nice soft one!' Is it a kitten, or a bed-quilt, or a sack of meal, you're after?" "O Stephen!--what queer things you guess! It's a gown--." "I don't keep gowns, young woman." "No, but, Steenie, you might help me to get at somebody that does. One of the Lady's women, you know. I'm sure you could, if you would." Steenie whistled. "Well, upon my word! _You'll_ not lose cakes for want of asking for. Why don't you go to Anania?" "You know she'd only be cross." "How do you know I sha'n't be cross?" asked Stephen, knitting his brows, and pouting out his lips, till he looked formidable. "Oh, because you never are. You'll only laugh at me, and you won't do that in an ugly way like some people. Now, Steenie, you _will_ help me to get a gown for Agnes?" "Agnes, is it? I thought you meant Flemild." "No, it's Agnes; and Ermine gave up her hood to help: but Agnes wants the gown worse than Ermine does a hood. You like them, you know, Steenie." "Who told you that, my Lady Impertinence? Dear, dear, what pests these children are!" "Now, Stephen, you know you don't think any thing of the sort, and you are going to help me this minute." "How am I to help, I should like to know? I can't leave my gate." "You can call somebody. Now do, Steenie, there's a darling cousin!--and I'll ask Mother to make you some of those little pies you like so much. I will, really." "You outrageous wheedler! I suppose I shall have no peace till I get rid of you.--Henry!"