The morrow brought a very sober-looking morning, the
sun making only a few efforts to appear, and Catherine au-
gured from it everything most favourable to her wishes.
At about eleven o’clock, however, a few specks of small
rain upon the windows caught Catherine’s watchful eye,
and ‘Oh! dear, I do believe it will be wet,’ broke from her in
a most desponding tone.
‘I thought how it would be,’ said Mrs. Allen.
‘No walk for me today,’ sighed Catherine; ‘but perhaps it
may come to nothing, or it may hold up before twelve.’
‘Perhaps it may, but then, my dear, it will be so dirty.’
‘Oh! That will not signify; I never mind dirt.’
‘No,’ replied her friend very placidly, ‘I know you never
After a short pause, ‘It comes on faster and faster!’ said
Catherine, as she stood watching at a window.
The rain continued — fast, though not heavy. Catherine
went every five minutes to the clock, threatening on each
return that, if it still kept on raining another five minutes,
she would give up the matter as hopeless. The clock struck
twelve, and it still rained.
To be continued
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