I remember a pretty bit of trimming on Eleanor's hat being blown by the wind against her face, on which she quietly seized it, and stuffed it securely into the band.
"Oh, my dear!" said Matilda, in the emphatic tone in which Aunt Theresa's lady visitors were wont to exclaim about nothing in particular--"don't do that.

It looks so pretty; and you're crushing it _dreadfully_." "It got in my eyes," said Eleanor briefly.

"I hate tags." We went home before Aunt Theresa, but as we stood near the door, Eleanor lingered and looked wistfully up the road, which ran over a slight hill towards the open country.
"Would you like to stay out a little longer ?" we politely asked.
"I should rather like to go to the top of the hill," said Eleanor.
"Don't you think flat ground tires one?
Shall we race up ?" she added.
We willingly agreed.

I had a few yards start of Eleanor, and Matilda rather less, and away we went.

But we were little used to running, and hoops and thin boots were not in our favour.