“Not a scrap,” she assured him gaily. “I’ll stand on the seat and hang on to the back. On, Stanley, on!”
Dolly piled the cushions on edge, and turned and drove into the brown water. He scrambled up and stood crouching on the seat himself, and whipped the horses on; and the water rose and rose till it lapped to the edge of the seat, and the horses were almost swimming. Then the water began to drop, and shoaled and lowered till at last they crept out on to dry land again.
“Through,” said Dolly, triumphantly. “I say, though, isn’t it a stretch across? Well, it means good grass all over where it’s running, so let’s be cheerful. And we didn’t get wet.”
“It’s coming on to rain,” said Ess, suddenly. “Here it comes.”
“Get that waterproof round you, quick,” said Dolly. “It’s coming a soaker, too. Look at it behind us there.”
A cloud swept over the sun, and a few heavy drops splashed down on them, then faster and larger they came, and then, with a sudden burst, the cloud opened and the water fell in sheets. After the first minute Dolly pulled the horses to a standstill. “Can’t see where I’m going,” he shouted. “Might as well stand and let the best of it over.”
They stood there for ten minutes, while the rain deluged on them. Ess could feel it beating like something solid on her shoulders and the cape over her head, she could hear it roaring on the ground like a waterfall, she could see solid sheet after sheet fall sweeping on the ground. Then it slackened, although it still poured heavily.
Dolly chirruped to the horses, and they plodded off slowly through the streaming rain and over the wet ground.
“We’ve got a long stretch back to strike the track, so as to get through the gates,” he remarked. “Hope you won’t mind it being after dark before we get in?”
“Who minds anything, Dolly,” she cried gaily, “in all this lovely rain?”