"A long one, too," spoke Prescott hopefully. "Greg, I actually believe that the wind is growing cool."
"Don't speak about it," begged Greg. "I'm superstitious."
"Superstitious?"
"Yes; if a rain comes up just after dress parade and guardmount, then it'll keep up the rest of the evening, when we might be enjoying ourselves after a strenuous day of work. But if you get to exulting over the rain that is to get us out of a drill or two, or bragging about a cool breeze getting lost around here in the daytime, then the raindrops cease at once, the wind dies down, and the sun comes out hotter than it has been before in a week!"
Dick took another look outside.
"Then I won't say that this rain is going to last all afternoon, but it is," Dick smiled.
"Now, you've spoiled it all!" cried Greg.
"Say, Holmesy, old spectre!" hailed a laughing voice across the street.
"Hullo!" Greg answered.
"Haven't a cold, have you?"