A call came to us from the road. We looked up and saw James, also soaked to the skin, sitting in Bert’s buggy.
At the sound of his voice Minerva gave a glad cry and started to run to him.
He made a trumpet of his hands and said, “Mrs. Vernon, you and Mr. Vernon drive and Minerva and me’ll walk.”
I considered a minute and then thinking that Ethel ran a greater risk of catching cold if she rode than if she walked, I shook my head and told Minerva to run along.
We took one or two steps in the sloppy moss and our shoes spurted water.
“Let’s go barefoot,” said I. “It will be much more comfortable.”
We took off our shoes and stockings, and for the first time in many years we walked the country barefoot. Perhaps it was Ethel’s first experience of the joy. To judge from her face it was. But we picked out soft places and by the time we reached the house we were already somewhat dried, nor did we get any ill effects.
“Ethel,” said I, “what was that white thing Minerva brought to sew on?”
“A wedding veil,” said Ethel.