“Sounded something like it,” was the reply.

A flash of lightning and a crashing peal that rent the skies put the matter beyond a doubt.  Miss Drewitt, turning very pale, began to walk at a rapid pace in the direction of the village.

The other looked round in search of some nearer shelter.  Already the pattering of heavy drops sounded in the lane, and before they had gone a dozen paces the rain came down in torrents.  Two or three fields away a small shed offered the only shelter.  Mr. Tredgold, taking his companion by the arm, started to run towards it.

Before they had gone a hundred yards they were wet through, but Miss Drewitt, holding her skirts in one hand and shivering at every flash, ran until they brought up at a tall gate, ornamented with barbed wire, behind which stood the shed.

The gate was locked, and the wire had been put on by a farmer who combined with great ingenuity a fervent hatred of his fellow-men.  To Miss Drewitt it seemed insurmountable, but, aided by Mr. Tredgold and a peal of thunder which came to his assistance at a critical moment, she managed to clamber over and reach the shed.  Mr. Tredgold followed at his leisure with a strip of braid torn from the bottom of her dress.

[Illustration:  “Aided by Mr. Tredgold and a peal of thunder, she managed to clamber over.”]

The roof leaked in twenty places and the floor was a puddle, but it had certain redeeming features in Mr. Tredgold’s eyes of which the girl knew nothing.  He stood at the doorway watching the rain.

“Come inside,” said Miss Drewitt, in a trembling voice.  “You might be struck.”

Mr. Tredgold experienced a sudden sense of solemn pleasure in this unexpected concern for his safety.  He turned and eyed her.

“I’m not afraid,” he said, with great gentleness.

“No, but I am,” said Miss Drewitt, petulantly, “and I can never get over that gate alone.”

Mr. Tredgold came inside, and for some time neither of them spoke.  The rattle of rain on the roof became less deafening and began to drip through instead of forming little jets.  A patch of blue sky showed.

“It isn’t much,” said Tredgold, going to the door again.

Miss Drewitt, checking a sharp retort, returned to the door and looked out.  The patch of blue increased in size; the rain ceased and the sun came out; birds exchanged congratulations from every tree.  The girl, gathering up her wet skirts, walked to the gate, leaving her companion to follow.

Approached calmly and under a fair sky the climb was much easier.

“I believe that I could have got over by myself after all,” said Miss Drewitt, as she stood on the other side.  “I suppose that you were in too much of a hurry the last time.  My dress is ruined.”

She spoke calmly, but her face was clouded.  From her manner during the rapid walk home Mr. Tredgold was enabled to see clearly that she was holding him responsible for the captain’s awkward behaviour; the rain; her spoiled clothes; and a severe cold in the immediate future.  He glanced at her ruined hat and the wet, straight locks of hair hanging about her face, and held his peace.