“It is bad enough,” groaned the Blue-gum.  “Ow!  There it is again.  I’m afraid it is white-ants.  I can feel the wretched little things nipping.”

But the Little Red House hardly heard him.  He was thinking again of his own troubles.

So they stood all through that day, saying very little to each other.  Rabbits came and played about the Little Red House, and lizards ran over his door-step, and once a big wallaby went flopping right past the front gate.  But the Little Red House paid no attention.  He was too busy thinking of his loneliness.

Birds came and perched in the branches of the big Blue-gum, and chattered and sang to him, trying to tell him the news of other trees on distant mountains.  But the big Blue-gum took no notice.  He was too busy thinking about white-ants.

So the sun sank low behind the Little House, and the shadow of the tall Blue-gum began to creep down the mountain and get longer and longer.

Just as it was growing dark, the big Blue-gum said Suddenly, “It certainly looks more like rain than ever.  The heavy clouds have been gathering all day, and we shall get it properly to-night.”

But the rain did not come that night, nor the next day, nor for two days and nights.  And all this while the Little Red House and the Big Blue-gum remained silent and miserable—­one through loneliness, the other through white-ants.

But on the evening of the third day the big Blue-gum said, “The rain will come to-night for certain.  I know by the feel of the air.”

“Let it come!” said the Little Red House.  “I don’t care.  I couldn’t be more miserable than I am.”

Just as he said that, one great rain-drop fell right on the middle of his roof—­Plop!

“It’s coming already,” cried the Blue-gum, “and it’s going to pour.”

Then three more big drops fell—­Plop!  Plop!  Plop!

“I have never in my life seen such big rain-drops,” said the Blue-gum.  “I’ve lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for—­”

But—­Crash! came rain before he could finish; and in two seconds everything was sopping wet.  The noise of it was deafening,

“Why, it’s a cloud-burst!” shouted the Blue-gum.  “Half of my leaves have been stripped off already.”  Then he peered through the rain and the dark to see how the Little Red House was taking it.  “Why, what’s the matter with your face?” he cried.  “You look awful.”

“I’m crying!” sobbed the Little Red House.  “That’s all—­just crying.  “Can’t you see the tears?”

“Nonsense!” said the Blue-gum.  “Those are not tears.  It’s just the rain-water running off your window-sills.”

“I tell you I’m crying!” wailed the Little Red House.  “I’m crying bitterly.  I should know, shouldn’t I?  I’m shivering and crying because I’m cold and lonely and miserable.”

“Oh, very well,” agreed the Blue-gum.  “You are crying.  But if this rain doesn’t stop soon, you’ll cry the front path away.  It certainly is wet.”