"And when are they coming home, John?" asked Mrs. Hatton. "Jane's house
is as fine as if it was new and Martha's governess is wearying for her.
Martha ought to be at her lessons now. Her holiday is over by all
rights."
"The festival will be on the twenty-eighth, and they will come on the
thirtieth if the weather be fine."
"What has the weather to do with it?"
"Well, Jane does not like to travel in wet weather. It drabbles her
skirts and depresses her spirits--always."
"Dear me! It is a pity she can't order the weather she prefers. I was
taught when a year or two younger than Martha six lines that my mother
bid me remember as long as I lived. I have not forgot to mind them yet."
"Why didn't you teach them to me?"
"You never feared rain--quite the other way."
"Tell them to me now, mother. It is your duty, you know," and John
laughed and bent forward and took in his large brown hand the plump,
small, white one she put out to meet his.
"Well then, listen John, and see thou mind them:
"The rain has spoiled the farmer's day,
Shall weather put my work away?
Thereby are two days lost.
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