So long as the weather was fine, and the Websters could spread themselves out in the garden, matters jogged along merrily enough, but a spell of rain sent the family barometer down with a run. Wales, like all mountainous districts, can do its wicked worst in the way of wet Augusts. For three days the view of the valley was totally obscured by mist, and the monotonous pat-pat of drops on the roof never ceased. The cottage, quite comfortable and commodious in ordinary circumstances, seemed suddenly to contract its walls. Lesbia, coming down one afternoon from the retreat of her bedroom, where she had retired to write a letter, found matters below somewhat strained. Mr. and Mrs. Webster had returned to Kingfield for a few days, leaving Pendry, the old nurse, in charge of the housekeeping and the children. It was the last item which made the difficulty. Nobody could agree about it. Pendry understood the term to refer to the whole family; Regina and Derrick declared it only meant the small fry, but included Magsie; while Magsie most indignantly repudiated being classed with Una, Piers, and Winston, and insisted that she was as grown-up as anybody. They were in the thick of the fray when Lesbia descended. Regina was having a sharp skirmish with Piers, whose painting-book, chalks, and other impedimenta occupied the one table at the sitting-room window. "I've told you children before to keep to the nursery!" she commanded. "I won't have you bringing all your things in here, so you may just take them off." "But Pendry _said_ I might come here!" protested Piers, keeping a jealous hand on his possessions, which Regina was ruthlessly sweeping away. "It's not Pendry's business. _I_ tell you to go!" "Indeed it _is_ my business, Miss Regina," interrupted the old nurse, zealous for her authority. "They've got Meccano all over the nursery table, and there isn't a corner left for Piers. He was perfectly good and quiet until you came meddling with him. Why can't you let him alone?" "You've got my book, Regina," whined Una's injured voice. "You _knew_ I was reading _Little Women_." "Oh, you children! You children!" protested Regina. "There isn't a corner of the house free from you. I wish I was in a convent or on a desert island. I'd get some peace and quiet there at any rate. Take your wretched book!" (flinging _Little Women_ at Una). "How was _I_ to know who was reading it? Why can't Magsie be quiet. I can hear that hinnying laugh of hers all over the house." At that moment Regina did not at all resemble "The Blessed Damozel". She seemed very far away indeed from "the gold bar of Heaven". Lesbia seized her friend by the arm and whispered something into her ear. The storm-clouds cleared from Regina's face. "Go a walk? Just by ourselves?" she replied, in the same undertone. "I'd adore it if _you_ would. I vote we do. Only don't let all this tribe find out. Mum's the word." "We'll wangle ourselves off quietly," agreed Lesbia.