144 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



than seized a drooping bough, and a sheet of 

 water shook itself out on our shoulders. I 

 gasped and ducked, and a hen who stood too 

 near scuttered off with low duckings of in 

 dignation. 



&quot;Now you re really wet, you can enjoy 

 yourself,&quot; said Jonathan; and there was 

 something in it, though I was loath to admit 

 it at the moment. A moment before I had 

 felt rather appalled at the sight of the rain 

 swept lane; now I hastened on recklessly. 



&quot;I think,&quot; said Jonathan, &quot;it s the back of 

 my neck that counts. After that s wet I don t 

 care what happens.&quot; 



&quot;Yes,&quot; I agreed, &quot;that s a stronghold. But 

 I think with me it s my shoulders.&quot; 



It did not really matter which it was; 

 neck and shoulders both were wet, back, 

 arms, everything. We tramped down across 

 the hollow, over the brook, whose flood was 

 backing up into the swamp on each side. I 

 paused to look off across the huckleberry 

 hillside beyond. 



&quot; How the rain changes everything! &quot; I said. 



All the colors had freshened and darkened, 

 and the blur of the rain softened the picture 



