"Oh, no, I shan't. I've come, never to leave you any more." "You're mad, Molly. A March hare isn't in it with you. Auntie'll be here directly." "Gammon! I met her ever so long ago, in the carriage and pair. She looked at me, and turned up her nose and sniffed." "Did she know you?" "Not she. I should have been here before, only Lady Tilborough galloped by me on her pony, and I followed and saw her come in, and I've been hiding in the copse till she came away, for I knew she wouldn't stop, as your aunt was out. As soon as she galloped off I came on. If it hadn't been for that I should have been here before. So no fudge; everybody's out, and we can talk. Oh, ain't you jolly ready to get shut of me?" "But everybody isn't out, pussy. Uncle's at home." "Is he? Come out, then. Let's get into the woods." "But I can't, dear." "Oh, why don't you tell them? You must now." "I can't, dear. It's impossible yet. Oh, why did you come?" "Because I wanted to see you pertickler." "But I was coming over to the races, and you'd have seen me then." "You got my telegram, then?" "Telegram? No. What telegram?" "The one I sent, saying I must see you. Yesterday." "No telegram came." "Then it's got stuck, because there's so many racing messages going. I sent one." "Then you must have been a little fool." "That I ain't," said the girl, petulantly. "I told you not to write or send." "But I was obliged to, I tell you; and as you didn't come to me in my trouble, I jumped on my bike and I've come to you." "But what for--what trouble?" cried the boy, stamping impatiently. "Father's got hold of your letters and found out everything, dear. You ought to have told 'em by now." "But--but--but," stammered Syd, "where--what--what--oh! why did you come?" "That's what I keep telling you, dear. Dad's half mad, and he's coming over to see your aunt and uncle." "Coming here?" "Yes, Syd love. He'd have come before if it hadn't been for the race." "You must go back at once and stop him from coming here." "Stop him? Oh, Syd dear, you don't know father." "Don't know him? Oh, don't I? Why, if he came here--oh, dear, dear, what a horrid mess! Well, I don't know what to do." "Hadn't I better stop here?" "Hadn't I better go and jump in the river? I wish you'd stopped at the Orphoean." "But I couldn't, Syd; they're rebuilding it." "Coming down here to this quiet place and making eyes at me in church till I didn't know what I was about." "For shame, sir! It was you made eyes at me. I couldn't help it." "Yes, you could. You'd got a church at Tilborough, and might have gone there." "Oh, what a shame, Syd! You know I did, and you went on writing letters to me, saying your aunt kept you at home, and that you couldn't eat or sleep for longing to see my pretty face." "I didn't." "You did, sir!" cried the girl, stamping her foot. "I swear I didn't." "Oh, you wicked wretch! Why, I've got six letters with it in."