Then the clouds began to fringe themselves off into rain, and Cowslip's Mill was soon hid, and river and hills were all grey under their thick watery veil.

"But Governor will be in the stage, mamma," said Winifred.

"He won't mind it." Poor Winifred! Poor Governor! -- He was not in the stage.

There was no room for him.

His only choice was to take a seat beside the driver, unless he would wait another day; and he never thought of waiting.