'Mayn't I go with you ?' 'My dear, certainly not! As if I wasn't accustomed to going about alone at my time of life! No, no, my dear, you go and have your walk; you'll get home before the rain.

Ready, James.' The old vicarage factotum could not imagine what made his charge so anxious to be off.

She actually took the whip out of his hand and gave a flick to the pony, who swerved and started off in a way which would have made his mistress clamorously nervous under any other circumstances.
Catherine stood looking after her.
'Now, then, right about face and quick march!' exclaimed the vicar.
'We've got to race that cloud over the Pike.

It'll be up with us in no time.' Off they started and were soon climbing the slippery green slopes, or crushing through the fern of the fell they had descended earlier in the afternoon.

Catherine for some little way walked last of the party, the vicar in front of her.