not bring him any
money if I were dead!

I walked on and on, and the rain made my hair go in little corkscrew
curls over my eyes, and my thin dress stuck to my neck and arms like a
skin, and I must have looked an object to scare the crows. I was cold,
too, for there was a chill in the rain as if it had once been ice on
some mountain-top, but I would not turn back. I was determined to wait a
long time and be sure Mr. Caspian had gone in to his bridge. Then, I
thought, I would find some side way into the hotel where I should not be
seen.

As I walked up the path, I heard suddenly steps coming behind. I was
afraid that after all Mr. Caspian had decided himself to follow. I
thought he had perhaps put on a coat for the rain, and brought an
umbrella to take me back, with my hand on his arm. Quick, I hurried to
climb up to a terrace-place there was above that place in the path, with
a lovely tree on it, almost like a tent. I think it is named the weeping
ash. I sat very still underneath, and I hoped the man might not look up;
but I did not remember about my footprints in the wet earth stopping
just there. I did not think of the footprints at all.

From where I sat, crouched down under the low tent of the little tree, I
could see the head of a person coming. It was not the head of Mr.
Caspian! It was a much higher head, and it wore the hat of Peter Storm.
When I knew it was he, I wanted, oh, so much, to call out his name and
tell him I was there. But I said to myself, "No, that would not be nice,
my girl. He will guess you hid from Mr. Caspian, but that you did not
wish to hide from _him_!" So I did not move. But he stopped and called
my name. Then it was no harm to answer. Even the Sisters would say it
would be rude if I did not! I looked out from under the tree, and
explained that I had come there to wait till the rain was not so much.
On his part he explained that he had seen my footmarks come to an end on
the path.

"I have brought you Mrs. Winston's umbrella," he said. "We saw you go
away without one, so she sent me with hers. May I come up and help you
down? The grass is slippery."

I did not need the help, but I said, "Yes, come." And as he came, the
rain, which had not been so bad for some minutes, began to pour down in
a torrent. Instead of falling in drops, it was like thick crystal rods.

"We had better wait," he said. "The umbrella won't be much good in this
deluge." It would have been cruel not to ask him in