Mrs Inglis looked up from the fancy work upon which she was engaged, and could not help smiling at the appearance the rest of the inmates of the room presented. However, judging that at all events the junior portion would be far better in bed, she proceeded to arouse them, which was no easy task; and at last got them out of the room, Harry being by far the most sleepy, and yawning fearfully as he was led off to bed.
The next morning Fred was the first awake, and, after rousing his cousins, he went to the window to raise the blind, when he found it to be a regular soaking wet morning, one with a heavy, leaden-hued sky, and the rain coming down “plish-plash” from the leaves and branches, and upon the edges of the verandah the drops running together like glassy beads until too heavy to hang, when they dropped upon the stones below, just in the same places where they had fallen for years, and wore the stone away into hollows. Little streams were slowly running down by the sides of the gravel-walks, and every bit of path looked muddy and dirty. As for the birds, they did not seem to mind the rain a bit, but were hurrying about the grounds picking up the worms, slugs, and snails that the cooling rain had fetched out of their hiding-places, so that they were having a regular feast; while one thrush, who had evidently been an early bird, and had the first pick at the worms, was up, high up, in the cedar at the corner of the field, whistling away as though the happiest of birds. The roses were getting washed clear of the blight that had begun to cover them; and everything seemed to be drinking in the soft cooling drops that fell so gently and bathed the face of nature, for during Fred’s visit the only rain that had fallen was that which accompanied the thunderstorm, and since then the hot sun had drawn all the moisture from the surface, so that many things began to appear parched, and to flag in the noontide heat. Altogether it was a regular soaking morning; and, after being very tired overnight, when people get up on these very wet soaky mornings they are liable to get low-spirited, and to feel dull—there is a want of elasticity in the air, and the consequence is that folks feel yawny, or gapish, whichever is the best word; and after looking out at the gloomy prospect—for places will look rather gloomy in these heavy rains, which are very different things to the soft, passing showers which lay the parched dust, and when the sun shines forth brighter than ever soon after, and makes the pearly drops glitter and sparkle where they hang to spray or leaf—I say, after looking out at the gloomy prospect, people often turn round and look at their bed, and the nice comfortably-shaped impression they left there; and I have known people so weak as to get into bed again and go to sleep; and amongst those weak enough to get into bed was Fred; but he would have required to have been strong enough to go to sleep, for, directly after, Harry and Philip charged into the room nearly dressed; and seeing what Fred had been doing, they seized the clothes, whisked them off, and then pretended to smother the poor idler with his own pillow.
“Now ain’t that sneaky, Phil, to call two fellows up and then go and crawl into bed again? Fetch the sponge.”
But Fred did not wait for the sponge, for he began to shuffle into his clothes as hard as ever he could.
“Well, look what a miserable, cold, wet morning it is,” said the sluggard.
Harry ran to the window and looked out, and then made a grimace at the weather. “Oh,” said he, “what a bother; and we were going up the Camp Hill botanising.”
“No, we weren’t,” said Philip; “Papa said we should not go till Monday.”
“Good job, too,” said Harry; “but never mind, we’ll find something to do, see if we don’t. Oh! I know; Papa promised to bring out the microscope last sight and show us the insects, only we all went to sleep. I was so jolly tired.”
“You weren’t so tired as I was,” said Philip.
“Yes, I was,” said Harry, “ever so much more.”