But though the highway clattered with many feet, not a soul was in the double dykes, and at the easy end of that formidable path Grizel came to a determined stop.
"Good-night," she said, with such a disdainful glance at Tommy.
He had not made up his mind yet, but he saw that it must be done now, and to take a decisive step was always agony to him, though once taken it ceased to trouble.

To dodge it for another moment he said, weakly: "Let's--let's sit down a whiley on the dyke." But Grizel, while coveting the packet, because she had never got a present in her life, would not shilly-shally.
"Are you to give it to Elspeth ?" she asked, with the horrid directness that is so trying to an intellect like Tommy's.
"N-no," he said.
"To Grizel ?" cried Elspeth.
"N-no," he said again.
It was an undignified moment for a great boy, but the providence that watched over Tommy until it tired of him came to his aid in the nick of time.

It took the form of the Painted Lady, who appeared suddenly out of the gloom of the Double Dykes.

Two of the children jumped, and the third clenched her little fists to defend her mamma if Tommy cast a word at her.

But he did not; his mouth remained foolishly open.