I could not do that, having promised to ride back to my aunt's at night; but I would pass the day there, joyfully.
'I must be a prisoner for a little while,' said Agnes,'but here are the old books, Trotwood, and the old music.'
'Even the old flowers are here,' said I, looking round;'or the old kinds.'
'I have found a pleasure,' returned Agnes, smiling,'while you have been absent, in keeping everything as it used to be when we were children. For we were very happy then, I think.'