"I believe you'd like to give the world a shove to make it go round quicker," he retorted, swinging himself up beside her. "Well, you surely don't think it moves very fast now, do you?" she said. "At all events, Ivingdon doesn't," she added emphatically. "Well, what did you come for, old chum?" he asked, smiting her shoulder with rough friendliness. "Not to complain of this slow old hole, I bet?" "Get me something to eat, and I'll tell you." "Oh, hang, Kitty! I can't. Cook will swear, or go to the mother, or something. Can't you wait till you get home?" "No, I can't. And I didn't tell you to go to cook, or to _her_; did I, stupid? Isn't there a pantry window, and isn't the larder next to the pantry, and aren't the servants having breakfast in the kitchen, out of the way? Eh?" "Well, I'm bothered! But I can't get up to that window, anyhow." "There's a loose brick just below, and you _know_ it, you lazy boy! What's the use of being exactly six foot, if you can't climb into a window on the ground floor? _I_ can, and I'm only five foot four. Oh, you needn't bother, if you're afraid! I can keep my news, for that matter." "I don't believe there is any news. Why, I only saw you yesterday afternoon. And nothing ever happens in Ivingdon. You are only rotting, aren't you, Kit?" "All right; I don't want to tell you, I'm sure. Good-bye," said Katharine, without moving a step. He called himself a fool, and told her she was a beastly nuisance, and that of course there wasn't any news, and he didn't want to hear it if there was. And he finally strolled round to the pantry window, as she knew he would, and returned with a medley of provisions in his hands. They laughed together at the odd selection he had made,--at the cold pie he was balancing on a slice of bread, and the jam tart that crowned the jug of milk; and they fought over everything like two young animals, and drank out of the same jug and spilled half its contents, and ended in chasing one another round the paddock for no reason whatever. "Walk home with me, and I'll tell you the news. Come on, Ted!" she cried. "Guess I will, and chance it. If she doesn't like my being late for breakfast she'll have to do the other thing. Through with you, Kitty, and don't make the hole any larger! There's always the chance that she might have it mended, in a spasm of extravagance, and that would be so bally awkward for us." She told her news as they went swinging along side by side over the wet fields, leaping the pools of standing water, and switching the wet twigs in each other's face. But they grew quieter as the interest of the tale deepened; and by the time Katharine had reached the episode of the chalk pit, Ted was walking gloomily along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes bent on the ground. "You always have all the luck, Kitty," he said mournfully. "Why wasn't I there? Think of the use I should have been in helping him into the carriage; only think of it, Kitty!"