TRA.PPING UP LITTLE OTTER 175 



that was not torment, and a recapitulation of the 

 day's fun and vexations, of which the first formed 

 the greater part, and then yawning to bed and 

 sound sleep — always but once. 



A warm south wind blew a thick covering of 

 clouds over the sky, that grew thicker and more 

 lowering and portentous of a long rain storm. The 

 threatening weather sent us to our quarters early, 

 for our poor facilities for drying wet clothes made 

 us dread a wetting. We were scarcely housed 

 before the first drops fell in an intermittent pat- 

 ter, quickly increasing to a wind-blown downpour 

 that made us thankful for the sound roof over us. 

 From end to end of the eaves a broad cataract fell 

 and ran in a noisy, rushing brook to join another 

 larger one in the highway ditch. 



I could imagine the women of former households 

 sallying forth on such occasions to put in order the 

 always-delayed corner barrel to catch water for an 

 infrequent washing, then scurrying in bedraggled 

 and dripping, while the lazy men folk unconcern- 

 edly smoked by the greasy stove. 



One could tell by the looks of the place, though 

 so long uninhabited, that such was the class of 

 its tenants. The marks of shiftlessness and dis- 

 comfort were indelibly set upon it. Not even a 

 stunted cherry tree nor sprawling unpruned cur- 

 rant bush grew near; no dry stalks of chance-sown 

 poppy, pink or four-o'-clock betokened the former 



