"How can you put an if to that, papa?"
"I have just had a message from that cottage that stands all alone on the corner of Mr. Barton's farm—over the cliff, you know—that the woman is ill, and would like to see me. So the sooner we start the better."
"I shall have done my breakfast in five minutes, papa. O, here's mamma!—Mamma, I'm going out for a walk in the rain with papa. You won't mind, will you?"
"I don't think it will do you any harm, my dear. That's all I mind, you know. It was only once or twice when you were not well that I objected to it. I quite agree with your papa, that only lazy people are glad to stay in-doors when it rains."
"And it does blow so delightfully!" said Wynnie, as she left the room to put on her long cloak and her bonnet.
We called at the sexton's cottage, and found him sitting gloomily by the low window, looking seaward.
"I hope your wife is not very poorly, Coombes," I said.
"No, sir. She be very comfortable in bed. Bed's not a bad place to be in in such weather," he answered, turning again a dreary look towards the Atlantic. "Poor things!"
"What a passion for comfort you have, Coombes! How does that come about, do you think?"
"I suppose I was made so, sir."