were overflowing. Every leaf and blade of grass
dripped tears. Even the birds seemed to have betaken themselves to
shelter. The very cattle were huddled under the hedges. A drenched dog
leaped through the bars of a gate and scurried past them. Yet the air
was fresh and reviving, and there was something rather exhilarating in
walking through the wet. It felt almost like sea-bathing. When a sudden
squall of wind blew the rain in their faces they could fancy they were
breasting a wave. Lesbia in the middle was particularly cheerful. She
insisted upon what she called a three-part stunt. Each in turn
improvised a line of verse, bringing it out as rapidly as possible.

_Regina._ The rain it raineth every day.

_Lesbia._ But in the house we will not stay.

_Derrick._ The kids we gladly leave behind.

_Regina._ And go a waterfall to find.

_Lesbia._ We few, we few, we happy three!

_Derrick._ I wish it were but you and me.

_Regina._ And I'd be gladly quit of _you_.

_Lesbia._ Now, now. No quarrelling you two.

_Derrick._ Like ducks we waddle fast along,

_Regina._ Quite jolly, though, and going strong.

_Lesbia._ My rhymes are done, I end the song.

"We're getting silly," continued Lesbia. "I don't think somehow any one
of us will ever win the Laureateship."

"More likely qualifying for another volume of Mother Goose's verses,"
grunted the Stripling.

"You're the goose, fast enough," snapped Regina.

"Oh no, madam, that literary honour belongs to you."

"Now don't spar," interrupted Lesbia. "Listen! I can hear the waterfall.
We must be getting quite near."

They had been climbing uphill along a rough, narrow road, and they now
turned through a gate and walked across a field, and then plunged down
into a wood to reach the stream. Path there was none, though a rough
track among the trees showed them the direction they must take. It was
beautiful in the gorge, but incredibly wet. The wind sent shower baths
from the dripping trees on to their heads, the long bracken was soaking.
The clumps of harebells were weighted down with raindrops, the
blackberry blossoms lay battered. Vivid green moss and scarlet
toadstools alone among the vegetation seemed to appreciate the excess
moisture. Below them the waterfall thundered. They could see white
gleams of it here and there among the trees. After a considerable
scramble they at last reached a point of rock from which they had an
uninterrupted view into the valley. The s