We had not met since the great downpour began, and that was the very day Lance and his father set out for London. It was no weather for being out of doors, and we did not expect the little brown pony-chaise to come rattling up as before. The great sheets of leaden-gray water that fell incessantly would have been enough to sweep the little pony off his feet, and as the days passed we began to hear stories of floods covering the country, and bridges being swept away; and at last the boys ran in one morning with tidings that Brandon River was out, and was bringing down hay-ricks, turf-stacks, uprooted trees, and even little drowned mountain sheep on its tide. But one morning at last the rain ceased, and we looked out on a watery world indeed, and a gray sky without a rift of blue. Still, the rain had ceased, and for that we were devoutly thankful. I was meditating a rush out to get some fresh air, for it seemed likely enough that the rain would soon begin again, when my door was opened softly by Bride, the little new maid. "If you please, Miss," she said mysteriously, "this was to be given into your very own hands. Little Johnny from the Inch Farm has come with it this minute." I took the bit of paper from the little maid's hand in wonder, and she went out nodding and smiling, apparently well satisfied now her commission was safely executed. The note was from Esther, and was written in pencil on a leaf evidently torn from a note-book. _Come to me here, Hilda, at the Inch Farm, at once, and say nothing to anybody. I want you more than I ever did in my life before.--Esther._ I put on my frieze cape and a cap, to be equipped against the rain, and went out without meeting anybody. The Inch Farm belonged to Michael O'Flaherty, the husband of Esther's friend Margaret, Harry De Lacy's foster-mother. I guessed that the urgent message had something to do with Esther's lover, and as I got over the ground as quickly as possible, I was praying silently that there might not be further grief and trouble for my poor sister. The Inch Farm lies towards the river, into which a portion of the farm-land projects almost like an island. It is, however, connected with the mainland, except when water is very low in the river, by a rough causeway of stones. But fortunately the farmhouse itself lies high and dry where the fields ascend towards Brandon Mountain. I made my way to the farmhouse by a muddy lane, and through a farm-yard full of quacking ducks and hissing geese, all casting weather-wise eyes to the horizon. At the kitchen door, which was nearer to me than the little green hall door, a donkey stood under his low-backed car. I gave a glance at it as I passed, and noticed with surprise that the cart was filled with rugs and blankets, and apparently a very comfortable featherbed. As I entered the kitchen Mrs. O'Flaherty's smiling daughter Katie, a rosy-cheeked, black-eyed slip of sixteen, came to meet me.