‘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?’