"Here it is, Mr. Leslie," said Sibyl, stepping from under cover.
"Keep it, Sibyl," said the clergyman in a low tone. "It gives me pleasure to see you protected."
"It is still raining steadily, I perceive," said Graham Marr, peeping out from the sheltering branches; "don't you think we had better remain here awhile longer, ladies?"
"The rain won't wash us away, Graham," said his cousin Rose.
"It washes out dyes, however? and shows us all in our true colors," whispered Bessie to Lida Powers. "Look at Graham! He looks like a faded ray!"
"He always was a fair-weather piece of goods," answered Lida; "high color, you know, don't stand soaking."
Reaching the wagon, the company climbed inside, the cushions had been kept dry, but the floor was wet, and the rain still fell with the persistence that betokens what farmers call a "steady soaker." Edith Chase sat with Aunt Faith at the rear end of the wagon, but Bessie in Edith's old place, felt her spirits rising with every plunge of the restless leaders.
"Do you think you can manage them, Hugh?" she whispered, just before they started.
"I hope so," he replied confidently. But the blacks had had their nerves tried by the flies, the thunder, and the lightning; besides, they had never been driven four-in-hand before, and they had their doubts as to what the bays were doing behind them. For the first mile or two they kept the road, and then they whirled suddenly round to the left, and stood still.
"Oh!" cried Edith Chase, "we shall all be killed!"