"We would have come home for the pony
carriage, but we thought it would be out."
"Take care of the drip," was Armine's parting cry, as Babie turned
the pony's head, and Jock strode down the lane. He meant merely to
have given in the parcel at the door, but Miss Parsons darted out,
and not distinguishing him in the dark began, "Thank you, dear
Armine; I'm so sorry, but it is in the good cause and you won't
regret it. Where's your sister? Gone home? But you'll come and
have a cup of tea and stay to evensong?"
"My brother and sister are gone home, thank you," said Jock, with
impressive formality, and a manly voice that made her start.
"Oh, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Brownlow. I was so sorry to let them go;
but it had not begun to rain, and it is such a joy to dear Armine to
be employed in the service."
"Yes, he is mad enough to run any risk," said Jock.
"Oh, Mr. Brownlow, if I could only persuade you to enter into the joy
of self-devotion, you would see that I could not forbid him! Won't
you come in and have a cup of tea?"
"Thank you, no. Good night." And Miss Parsons was left rejoicing at
having said a few words of reproof to that cynical Mr. Robert
Brownlow, while Jock tramped away, grinning a sardonic smile at the
lady's notions of the joys of self-sacrifice.
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