Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth does not touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and firmly belayed.

His caution is justified in the night by a violent thunderstorm, and in the morning it is raining steadily.
It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

Thursday it does not rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the grass hung with raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting cloud.

The hay cannot be touched; it must lie a day till sufficiently dry.

Friday is more hopeful.
He walks out into the fields, and kicks a haycock half over.