"Ah," said Geary, delighted, peeling the cover from his umbrella in the vestibule, "I _thought_ it was going to rain before I left and brought mine along with me.

Ah, you bet I always look out for rain!" On the horse-block stood the caller, chanting up the carriages at the top of his voice.

The street was full of coupes, carriages, and hacks, the raindrops showing in a golden blur as they fell across the streaming light of their lamps.

The horses were smoking and restless, and the drivers in oilskins and rubber blankets were wrangling and shouting.

At every instant there was a long roll of wheels interrupted by the banging of the doors.