It was a desperately bad afternoon for outdoor exercise. There was a strong cold wind, and the rain was absolutely pelting down. For the sake of change, however, the girls would have braved a blizzard. There is a certain stage of wet-weather ennui which becomes absolutely insupportable. They put on mackintoshes, old hats, and tall rubber boots, then sneaked out by the back door to avoid being seen by the rest of the family. They had only gone a few hundred yards when there was a sound of racing footsteps behind them, and they were caught up by the Stripling, also attired ready to face the elements. "Derrick! Who told _you_ to come?" inquired his sister inhospitably. The boy grinned. "Pendry gave me a hint, so I thought I'd clear out too, and leave the kids to fight over their Meccano. It's a ripping idea of yours. Where are you going?" "Just a walk _by ourselves_!" declared Regina, taking her friend's arm. "Oh, _do_ let him come with us," pleaded Lesbia. "Why shouldn't we all three go together and look at the waterfall? It will be grand on a day like this." "Two is company and three is none." "The more the merrier, say I." "Don't be a bluebottle, Regina. I tell you I'm coming, so that's the long and the short of it," decided Derrick, taking Lesbia's other arm, and beginning to tow the girls up hill. "We're the three graces, or the three fates, or the three anything else you like. It's a lucky number." "'When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?'" quoted Regina, giving in for once. [Illustration: NOT A TRACE OF DERRICK _Page 205_] "Some rain certainly," agreed the Stripling cheerfully. It was impossible to imagine a wetter day. The road was almost a rivulet, and the ditches were overflowing. Every leaf and blade of grass dripped tears. Even the birds seemed to have betaken themselves to shelter. The very cattle were huddled under the hedges. A drenched dog leaped through the bars of a gate and scurried past them. Yet the air was fresh and reviving, and there was something rather exhilarating in walking through the wet. It felt almost like sea-bathing. When a sudden squall of wind blew the rain in their faces they could fancy they were breasting a wave. Lesbia in the middle was particularly cheerful. She insisted upon what she called a three-part stunt. Each in turn improvised a line of verse, bringing it out as rapidly as possible. _Regina._ The rain it raineth every day. _Lesbia._ But in the house we will not stay. _Derrick._ The kids we gladly leave behind. _Regina._ And go a waterfall to find. _Lesbia._ We few, we few, we happy three! _Derrick._ I wish it were but you and me. _Regina._ And I'd be gladly quit of _you_. _Lesbia._ Now, now. No quarrelling you two. _Derrick._ Like ducks we waddle fast along, _Regina._ Quite jolly, though, and going strong. _Lesbia._ My rhymes are done, I end the song.