But what an obstinate disagreeable Mr. Rain it was!  All that night it went on pouring, till the little beck in the garden was so full it was almost choked, and could only get along by sputtering and foaming as if some wicked water-fairies were driving it along and tormenting it.  And all the little pools on the mountain, the “tarns,” as Becky and Tiza called them, filled up, and the rain made the mountain itself so wet that it was like one big bog all over.

When the children woke up the flood on the lawn was growing bigger, and it seemed to them as if the house and garden were all wrapped up in a wet white cloud-blanket.  They could not see the mountain at all from the window, it was all covered with a thick white mist, and the dark fir trees in the garden looked sad and drooping, as if the weight of raindrops was too much for them to carry.

The children had made up their minds so completely the night before that it couldn’t rain more than two days running, that they felt as if they could hardly be expected to bear this third wet morning cheerfully.  Nurse found them cross and out of spirits at breakfast.  Even a prospect of asking Becky and Tiza to tea did not bring any smiles to their forlorn little faces.  It would be no fun having anybody to tea.  They couldn’t go out, and there was nothing amusing indoors.

After breakfast, Olly set to work to get into mischief, as he generally did when he felt dull.  Nurse discovered him smearing Katie’s cheeks with raspberry jam “to make them get red kricker” as he said, and alas! some of the jam had stuck to the new silk frock, and spoilt all its smart fresh look.

When Milly found it out she began to cry, and when Mrs. Norton came in she saw a heap on the floor, which was Milly, sobbing, while Olly sat beside her with his mouth wide open, as if he was a good deal astonished at the result of his first attempt at doctoring.

“Pick up the pieces, old woman,” said Mrs. Norton, taking hold of the heap and lifting it up.  “What’s the matter with you both?”

“Olly’s spoilt my doll,” sobbed Milly, “and it will go on raining—­and I feel so—­so—­dull.”

“I didn’t spoil her doll, mother,” cried Olly, eagerly.  “I only rubbed some jam on its cheeks to make them a nicey pink—­only some of it would sticky her dress—­I didn’t mean to.”

“How would you like some jam rubbed on your cheeks, sir?” said Mrs. Norton, who could scarcely help laughing at poor Katie’s appearance when nurse handed the doll to her.  “Suppose you leave Milly’s dolls alone for the future; but cheer up, Milly!  I think I can make Katie very nearly right again.  Come upstairs to my room and we’ll try.”

After a good deal of sponging and rubbing, and careful drying by the kitchen fire, Katie came very nearly right again, and then Mrs. Norton tried whether some lessons would drive the rain out of the children’s heads.  But the lessons did not go well.  It was all Milly could do to help crying every time she got a figure wrong in her sum, and Olly took about ten minutes to read two lines of his reading-book.  Olly had just begun his sums, and Milly was standing up to say some poetry to her mother, looking a woebegone little figure, with pale cheeks and heavy eyes, when suddenly there was a noise of wheels outside, and both the children turned to look out of the window.