back. It does begin to look rather dark."

"Just as you please," said Edward Tredgold, with unwonted caution;
"but the nearest shelter is Dutton Priors."

He pointed to a lurid, ragged cloud right ahead of them. As if in
response, a low, growling rumble sounded overhead.

"Was--was that thunder?" said Miss Drewitt, drawing a little nearer to
him.

"Sounded something like it," was the reply.

A flash of lightning and a crashing peal that rent the skies put the
matter beyond a doubt. Miss Drewitt, turning very pale, began to walk at
a rapid pace in the direction of the village.

The other looked round in search of some nearer shelter. Already the
pattering of heavy drops sounded in the lane, and before they had gone a
dozen paces the rain came down in torrents. Two or three fields away a
small shed offered the only shelter. Mr. Tredgold, taking his companion
by the arm, started to run towards it.

Before they had gone a hundred yards they were wet through, but Miss
Drewitt, holding her skirts in one hand and shivering at every flash, ran
until they brought up at a tall gate, ornamented with barbed wire, behind
which stood the shed.

The gate was locked, and the wire had been put on by a farmer who
combined with great ingenuity a fervent hatred of his fellow-men. To
Miss Drewitt it seemed insurmountable, but, aided by Mr. Tredgold and a
peal of thunder which came to his assistance at a critical moment, she
managed to clamber over and reach the shed. Mr. Tredgold followed at his
leisure with a strip of braid torn from the bottom of her dress.

[Illustration: "Aided by Mr. Tredgold and a peal of thunder, she managed
to clamber over."]

The roof leaked in twenty places and the floor was a puddle, but it had
certain redeeming features in Mr. Tredgold's eyes of which the girl knew
nothing. He stood at the doorway watching the rain.

"Come inside," said Miss Drewitt, in a trembling voice. "You might be
struck."

Mr. Tredgold experienced a sudden sense of solemn pleasure in this
unexpected concern for his safety. He turned and eyed her.

"I'm not afraid," he said, with great gentleness.

"No, but I am," said Miss Drewitt, petulantly, "and I can never get over
that gate alone."

Mr. Tredgold came inside, and for some time neither of them spoke. The
rattle of rain on the roof became less deafening and began to drip
through instead of forming little jets. A patch of blue sky showed.

"It isn't much