“Oh, father!” said Milly, protesting. “There are some red clouds over there—look! and Nana always says it’s going to be fine when there are red clouds.”
“Well, Milly, your red clouds may be right and I may be wrong. We shall see.”
But, alas! father was quite right. When Milly woke up next morning there was no nice sunshine creeping on to her bed as it had done almost ever since they came to Ravensnest; but instead there was rain beating steadily against the window, coming down out of a heavy gray sky, and looking as if it meant to go on for ever.
“Oh dear!” sighed Milly, as she began to dress, “we can’t go out, and the wild strawberries will get so wet. I meant to have gathered some for mother to-day. There would have been such nice ones in the wood.”
But it was no use thinking about woods or strawberries, and when Mrs. Norton came into the children’s room just as they were finishing breakfast, she found a pair of dull little faces staring out at the rain, as if looking at it would make it stop.
“Nasty rain,” said Olly, climbing up on his mother’s knee. “Go to Spain. I don’t want you to come and spoil my nicey time.”
“I am afraid scolding the rain won’t make it go away,” said his mother, smiling into his brown face as he knelt on her lap, with his arms round her neck. “Now what are we going to do to-day?”
“I don’t know,” said Milly, sitting down opposite her mother, and resting her face gravely on her hands. “Well, we brought some toys, you know, mother. Olly’s got his top; I can help him spin it, and I can play with Katie a bit.”
“That won’t take very long,” said Mrs. Norton. “Suppose we do some lessons first of all.”
“Oh, mother, lessons!” said Milly, in a very doubtful voice.