He had to come down the hill carefully, lest the milk should be spilt.

He walked along very happily, humming to himself and thinking in a confused summer afternoon kind of manner of Charlotte, Hamlet, Mrs.Le Page and himself.
"Shall I give her the thimble or shan't I?
I could take her to the pools where the little crabs are.

She'd like them.

I wonder whether we're going to bathe.

Mrs.Le Page will look funny bathing..." Then he was in the green lane again, and at once his discomfort returned to him, and he looked around his shoulder and into the hedges, and stopped once and again to listen.