Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/26

the wilder it was, and the wetter, the happier I felt. And I began to sing, for nobody could hear me, it raved so out there among the trees. I sang opera and ballads and queer things—all the love-songs I ever knew, and that one I like about the skipper's daughter and the mate:

And pop! in the middle of them, something dashed at me, and it was Job. I thought he was shut up in the kitchen, for his feet were wet, and he had a sore throat, and I 'd given him some hot whisky; and I scolded him. But I must say I appreciated it to have him take all that trouble to find me—there 's no flatterer in this world like your own dog. So I picked him up, and put him under my waterproof in one of the dry spots.

"Job," I said, "you know better than this!"

Then the storm lifted up its voice, and spoke, quite distinctly, so close to me that I jumped.

"And so do you," it said.

And there stood a man.

I jumped, but I did not scream—I have so much consolation; but I have n't another atom. He was very wet, but not so wet as I, and he seemed to shed the storm from his mackintosh as