ack, my lad, put her in--Tha'rt a rare old
cock, Jacky-boy, wi' a belly on thee as does credit to thy
drink, if not to thy corn. Co' up lass, let's get off ter th'
old homestead. Oh, my heart, what a wetness in the night!
There'll be no volcanoes after this. Hey, Jack, my beautiful
young slender feller, which of us is Noah? It seems as though
the water-works is bursted. Ducks and ayquatic fowl 'll be king
o' the castle at this rate--dove an' olive branch an' all.
Stand up then, gel, stand up, we're not stoppin' here all night,
even if you thought we was. I'm dashed if the jumping rain
wouldn't make anybody think they was drunk. Hey, Jack--does
rain-water wash the sense in, or does it wash it out?" And he
laughed to himself at the joke.

He was always ashamed when he had to drive after he had been
drinking, always apologetic to the horse. His apologetic frame
made him facetious. He was aware of his inability to walk quite
straight. Nevertheless his will kept stiff and attentive, in all
his fuddleness.

He mounted and bowled off through the gates of the innyard.
The mare went well, he sat fixed, the rain beating on his face.
His heavy body rode motionless in a kind of sleep, one centre of
attention was kept fitfully burning, the rest was dark. He
concentrated his last attention on the fact of driving along the
road he knew so well. He knew it so well, he watched for it
attentively, with an effort of will.

He talked aloud to himself, sententious in his anxiety, as if
he were perfectly sober, whilst the mare bowled along and the
rain beat on him. He watched the rain before the gig-lamps, the
faint gleaming of the shadowy horse's body, the passing of the
dark hedges.

"It's not a fit night to turn a dog out," he said to himself,
aloud. "It's high time as it did a bit of clearing up, I'll be
damned if it isn't. It was a lot of use putting those ten loads
of cinders on th' road. They'll be washed to kingdom-come if it
doesn't alter. Well, it's our Fred's look-out, if they are. He's
top-sawyer as far as those things go. I don't see why I should
concern myself. They can wash to kingdom-come and back again for
what I care. I suppose they would be washed back again some day.
That's how things are. Th' rain tumbles down just to mount up in
clouds again. So they say. There's no more water on the earth
than there was in the year naught. That's the story, my boy, if
you understand it. There's no more to-day than there was a