“Then,” said David, “I am off in search.”
As he spoke there came the sound of pattering feet on the road, and the next instant, abreast them, came two flying, drenched, little figures, the girl with white scared face, the boy frankly sobbing aloud.
David darted towards them.
“Antony, Molly,” he cried.
At the sound of his voice the two came to a halt. Joy, rapturous joy, illumined their woe-begone faces.
“Oh, it’s you, it’s you,” cried Antony.
The next moment they were beneath the friendly shelter of the hedge; while Molly, with a marvellously rapid transition from depression to confidence, was taking a lively interest in the storm.
“Isn’t it splendid!” she cried exultantly. “Isn’t the rain just hitting the earth!”
“It’s hit you pretty considerably, I fancy,” said David coolly.
“Oh, I’ll be drying,” responded Molly calmly. “Is Master Antony wet?”