Agatha stopped, and the column broke into a group about her.
“Miss Wilson,” she said, “it is going to rain in torrents, and Jane and I have only our shoes on.”
Miss Wilson paused to consider the situation. Someone suggested that if they hurried on they might reach Lyvern before the rain came down.
“More than a mile,” said Agatha scornfully, “and the rain coming down already!”
Someone else suggested returning to the college.
“More than two miles,” said Agatha. “We should be drowned.”
“There is nothing for it but to wait here under the trees,” said Miss Wilson.
“The branches are very bare,” said Gertrude anxiously. “If it should come down heavily they will drip worse than the rain itself.”
“Much worse,” said Agatha. “I think we had better get under the veranda of the old chalet. It is not half a minute’s walk from here.”
“But we have no right—” Here the sky darkened threateningly. Miss Wilson checked herself and said, “I suppose it is still empty.”