All earth under foot was sliding in a thousand liquid noises towards the hoarse brook. Somebody wailed from the house: ''Fraid o' the water! Come 'ere! 'Fraid o' the water!'
'That's Jimmy. Wet always takes 'im that way,' she explained. The idiot charged into them, shaking with terror.
'Brave Jimmy! How brave of Jimmy! Come into the hall. What Jimmy got now?' she crooned. It was a sodden note which ran: 'Dear Rhoda—Mr. Lotten, with whom I rode home this afternoon, told me that if this wet keeps up, he's afraid the fish-pond he built last year, where Coxen's old mill-dam was, will go, as the dam did once before, he says. If it does it's bound to come down the brook. It may be all right, but perhaps you had better look out. C. S.'
'If Coxen's dam goes, that means . . . I'll 'ave the drawing-room carpet up at once to be on the safe side. The claw-'ammer is in the libery.'
'Wait a minute. Sidney's gates are out, you said?'
'Both. He'll need it if Coxen's pond goes. . . . I've seen it once.'
'I'll just slip down and have a look at Sidney. Light the lantern again, please, Rhoda.'
'You won't get him to stir. He's been there since he was born. But she don't know anything. I'll fetch your waterproof and some top-boots.'
''Fraid o' the water! 'Fraid o' the water!' Jimmy sobbed, pressed against a corner of the hall, his hands to his eyes.
