Certainly the window panes had more than a sprinkle trickling down them. But the birds were twittering fussily in the bushes and amongst the ivy, and the garden was looking its best in the summer shower. Fitful gleams of sunshine cast loving touches here and there on the roses and the sweet honeysuckle; and the tall white lilies never looked fresher or smarter. Beyond, were those tempting rocks, with their surroundings of sand, which rose so strangely in that part of inland Kent, telling of former ages and of the vagaries of the sea and river. The rocks were the happy playground of these lucky Twins, who lived in the fine solitary house close by, and who were now peering so disconsolately through the window, flattening their noses against the glass blurred with the pattering rain. They were exactly the same height; they resembled one another in feature, and, being twins, were both nine years old; and there the likeness ended, for his dark hair was short and thick, and hers was fair and very long. She was timid and gentle though her bright face was very happy; he, what is termed "a handful." "_I_ know!" exclaimed Dulcie after a moment's silence, drawing her brother away from the melancholy amusement of tracing down the trailing drops with his finger until they disappeared mysteriously at the bottom of the glass. "I know! Let's play 'Birds, Beasts, and Fishes.'" Cyril cast a lingering look at the tiresome dark clouds, then with a sigh and a frown turned round in token of consent, graciously suffered himself to be settled at the table with paper and pencil, and was soon excitedly trying to guess what Dulcie's Bird could be that began with the letter c, had four between, and ended with an _e_. "It's very easy, really," pleaded Dulcie, burning to tell. "Do you give it up?" Cyril wasn't so easily beaten as that, and thought till he grew impatient. "Shall I tell you?--_Let_ me tell you!" urged his sister. "If you like," he replied magnanimously. "Canare!" "I'm sure it's spelt with a _y_," he said, as if he weren't quite certain in spite of his words. They argued who should score the mark, and settled the point by counting it a draw. She followed it up with a Fish, which was _s_, two between, and an _l_, which puzzled Cyril until he found, of course, that it was "soul." Believing he had lost again, he allowed his interest in the game to flag, and still restless, he ran to the window. "Hooray! it's fine now," he cried. "Come along, we don't want hats!" "_Ought_ we to go, do you think, Cyril, without asking?" "I'm not going to ask, not if I know it. We would be sure to be 'don't'-ed. I'm going out. It's so stuffy here. You can do as you like." "If you go, I shall go too," she replied quickly, following him and taking his hand. He didn't quite like that, but he felt, as she was "only a woman," he would let her.