We should have stored away some wood under shelter.
We set our little camp-table in the tent, and we had scarcely finished our supper, when a very heavy rain set in, accompanied by a violent wind.

The canvas at one end of our tent must have been badly fastened, for it was blown in, and in an instant our beds were deluged.

I rushed out to fasten up the canvas, and got drenched almost to the skin, and although Euphemia put on her waterproof cloak as soon as she could, she was pretty wet, for the rain seemed to dash right through the tent.
This gust of wind did not last long, and the rain soon settled down into a steady drizzle, but we were in a sad plight.

It was after nine o'clock before we had put things into tolerable order.
"We can't sleep in those beds," said Euphemia.
"They're as wet as sop, and we shall have to go up to the house and get something to spread over them.

I don't want to do it, but we mustn't catch our deaths of cold." There was nothing to be said against this, and we prepared to start out.
I would have gone by myself, but Euphemia would not consent to be left alone.