“Why, what happened, old woman?” said Mr. Norton, holding out his hand to help her up.

“I—­I—­don’t quite know, father; I was standing on a big stone, and all of a sudden it tipped up, and I tumbled right in.”

“First of all I thought you was a big fish, and then I thought you was going to be drowned,” said Olly, cheerfully.  “I’m glad you wasn’t drowned.”

“Miss Milly!  Miss Milly!” shouted nurse from the bank, “it’s quite time you came out now.  If you stay in so long you’ll get cold, and you, too, Master Olly.”

Olly was not inclined to come.  He would have liked to go on dabbling and splashing till breakfast-time, but Mr. Norton hurried him out, and the two dripping little creatures were well wrapped up in large shawls which nurse had brought with her.  Then nurse took up Olly in her arms, and father took up Milly, who was small and light for her age, and they set off up the bit of road to the house.  By this time it was past six o’clock, and whom should they meet at the Ravensnest gate but John Backhouse, with Becky and Tiza, and his two dogs.  He was just bringing the milk, and both he and his children looked as brisk and wide awake as if they had been up and about for hours.

Milly and Olly were very much excited at the sight of them, and Olly struggled hard to get down, but nurse held him tight.

“Oh, Becky! we’ve had such a nice bathe,” cried Milly, as she passed them muffled up in her shawl, her little wet feet dangling out.

Becky and Tiza looked longingly after them as they disappeared into the house.  They wished they could have had a bathe too, but they knew very well that their hard-worked father and mother had something else to do on a fine summer’s morning than to take them to bathe, and in a few minutes they had forgotten all about it, and were busy playing with the dogs, or chattering to their father about the hay-making, which was soon to begin now.

That evening there were strange clouds at sunset time, and Mr. Norton shook his head as he heard Mrs. Norton arrange to take the children next day to a small mountain village near Ravensnest, to call on some old friends of hers.

“I wouldn’t make much of a plan for to-morrow if I were you,” he said to his wife, “the weather doesn’t look promising.”

“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.”