in the tent, and we had scarcely finished
our supper, when a very heavy rain set in, accompanied by a violent
wind. The canvas at one end of our tent must have been badly fastened,
for it was blown in, and in an instant our beds were deluged. I rushed
out to fasten up the canvas, and got drenched almost to the skin, and
although Euphemia put on her waterproof cloak as soon as she could, she
was pretty wet, for the rain seemed to dash right through the tent.

This gust of wind did not last long, and the rain soon settled down into
a steady drizzle, but we were in a sad plight. It was after nine o'clock
before we had put things into tolerable order.

"We can't sleep in those beds," said Euphemia.

"They're as wet as sop, and we shall have to go up to the house and get
something to spread over them. I don't want to do it, but we mustn't
catch our deaths of cold."

There was nothing to be said against this, and we prepared to start out.
I would have gone by myself, but Euphemia would not consent to be left
alone. It was still raining, though not very hard, and I carried an
umbrella and a lantern. Climbing fences at night with a wife, a lantern,
and an umbrella to take care of, is not very agreeable, but we managed
to reach the house, although once or twice we had an argument in regard
to the path, which seemed to be very different at night from what it was
in the day-time.

Lord Edward came bounding to the gate to meet us, and I am happy to say
that he knew me at once, and wagged his tail in a very sociable way.

I had the key of a side-door in my pocket, for we had thought it wise to
give ourselves command of this door, and so we let ourselves in without
ringing or waking Pomona.

All was quiet within, and we went upstairs with the lantern. Everything
seemed clean and in order, and it is impossible to convey any idea of
the element of comfort which seemed to pervade the house, as we quietly
made our way upstairs, in our wet boots and heavy, damp clothes.

The articles we wanted were in a closet, and while I was making a bundle
of them, Euphemia went to look for Pomona. She soon returned, walking
softly.

"She's sound asleep," said she, "and I didn't think there was any need
of waking her. We'll send word by John that we've been here. And oh!
you can't imagine how snug and happy she did look, lying there in her
comfortable bed, in that nice, airy room. I'll tell you what it is, if
it wasn't for the neighbors, and