“I expect it is,” he went on in an excited whisper. “But you ought to tell me, you know, however horrid it is. Is it horrid?”
Mary nodded. There was comfort even in that, though she must not say anything.
Jackie leant eagerly forward. Splash! Fell a great rain-drop on the tip of his nose, and a pelting shower quickly followed. Patter, patter, fell the fast-falling rain on the leaves above the children’s heads, sprinkling Mary’s yellow hair and Jackie’s best velveteen suit.
“We must go in,” he said; “all the others have gone. Won’t you just tell me first?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Mary mournfully. “And I don’t want to go in. I should like to stop here always.”
“Well, you couldn’t do that, you know,” said Jackie gravely. “There’s no roof, and you’d get wet through, and hungry too. Come along.”
He gave her hand a gentle pull, and prepared to descend. As he cautiously lowered one leg, a woman with a shawl over her head came running down the nut-walk; it was Maggie, the new school-room maid.
“Why, there you are, Master Jackie,” she said; “we’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’re to come in out of the rain this minute, please. And have you seen Miss Mary? Marcy me, my dear, where did you get yon?”
She pointed excitedly to the little shoe which Jackie still held.
“Mary gave it me,” he answered.