next morning she was awakened by a tap at the door, a gentle
little tap. She almost fancied she had heard it before in her sleep
without being really aroused.

"Come in," she said, and a very business-like figure, which at the first
glance she hardly recognised, made its appearance. It was Ted; dressed
in waterproof from head to foot, cloak, leggings, and all, he really
looked ready to defy the weather--a sort of miniature diver, for he had
an oilskin cap on his head too, out of which gleamed his bright blue
eyes, full of eagerness and excitement.

"Mother," he said, "I hope I haven't wakened you too soon. I got up
early on purpose to see about your letters. It's still raining as
hard as ever, and even if it left off, there'd be no crossing the
stepping-stones for two or three days, Farmer Crosby says. And he can't
spare any one to-day to go to the post. I'm the only one that _can_, so
I've got ready, and don't you think I'd better go at once?"

Ted's mother looked out of the window. Oh, how it was pouring! She
thought of the long walk--the two miles and a half through the dripping
grass of the meadows, along the muddy, dreary road, and all the way back
again; and then the possibility of the swollen river having escaped its
bounds where the road lay low, came into her mind and frightened her.
For Ted was a little fellow still--only eleven and a half, and slight
and delicate for his age. And then she looked at him and saw the eager
readiness in his eyes, and remembered that he was quick-witted and
careful, and she reflected also that he must learn, sooner or later, to
face risks and difficulties for himself.

"Ted, my boy," she said, "it's very nice of you to have thought of it,
and I know it would be a great disappointment if I didn't let you go.
But you'll promise me to be very careful--to do nothing rash or unwise;
if the river is over the road, for instance, or there is the least
danger, you'll turn back?"

"Yes, mother, I'll be very careful, really," said Ted. "I'll do nothing
silly. Good-bye, mother; thank you so much for letting me go. I've got
my stick, but there's no use taking an umbrella."

And off he set; his mother watching him from the window as far as she
could see him, trudging bravely along--a quaint little figure--through
the pouring rain. For more than a mile she could see him making his way
along the meadow path, gradually lessening as the distance increased,
till a little black speck was all s