"Never mind," said Tommy, "I like the rain. It doesn't hurt, either, and I like talking to you; you make me think of things."
The pale boy turned up his collar, and shivered a little.
"Let's find a shelter, somewhere," he said, looking round anxiously.
"We'd better walk home over the common," said Tommy. "Besides, it's ripping walking in the rain, don't you think, an' it makes you feel so good, an' fit, when you're having grub afterwards, in front of the fire."
But the pale boy shook his head.
"I hate it," he said, "and I'm going up to the farm there, till it stops."
Tommy cast an accustomed eye round the horizon.
"It won't stop for a jolly long while," he said. "However, do as you like. We don't seem to agree about things much, do we? So long."
"Good-bye. It's all the way a fellow's brought up, you know."
And as Tommy shouldered sturdily through the rain, the pale boy lit another cigarette and turned back towards the farm door.