They ran on to look for the stepping-stones, but to their amazement there was not a stone to be seen.

The water was rushing over them with a great roar and swirl, and Milly shivered a little bit when she remembered their bathe there a week before.
"Well, old woman," said Mr.Norton, coming up to them, "I don't suppose you'd like, a bathe to-day--quite." "If we were in there now," said Olly, watching the river with great excitement, "the water would push us down krick! and the fishes would come and etten us all up." "They'd be a long time gobbling you up, Master Fatty," said his father.
"Come, run along; it's too cold to stand about." But how brilliant and beautiful it was after the rain! Little tiny trickling rivers were running down all the roads, and sparkling in the sun; the wet leaves and grass were glittering, and the great mountains all around stood up green and fresh against the blue sky, as if the rain had washed the dust off them from top to toe, and left them clean and bright.

Two things only seemed the worse for the rain--the hay and the wild strawberries.

Milly peered into all the banks along the road where she generally found her favourite little red berries, but most of them were washed away, and the few miserable things that were left tasted of nothing but rain water.

And as for the hay-fields, they looked so wet and drenched that it was hard to believe any sunshine could ever dry them.
"Poor John Backhouse!" said Aunt Emma; "I'm afraid his hay is a good deal spoilt.