The rain blew a little way into the cave, but not much, and we put
Greg as far back as we could. The bottom of the cave was very jaggy
and not comfortable to lie on, but we made it as soft as we could
with the skirt and the jersey. I tripped and stumbled against Jerry,
and when I caught him I felt that he was shivering. His shirt was
quite wet. When I asked him if he was cold, he said "Not very," and
we crawled into the cave place beside Greg, and sat as close
together as possible to keep warm. We couldn't see the Headland
light, and I was rather glad, because it had made me almost crazy,
flashing and flashing so steadily and not caring a bit.

The rain went _plop_ into the pools, and made a flattish, spattery
sound on the rock. I don't know why I thought of the "Air Religieux"
just then, but I suppose it was because of the rain. I could see the
straight yellow candle-flames all blue around the wick, and Father's
head tucked down looking at the 'cello, and his hands, nice and
strong, playing it; then I got a little mixed and heard him calling
"Christi-ine," fainter and fainter. I think I must have been almost
asleep, because I know the real rain surprised me, like something
I'd forgotten, and a very sharp, cornery rock was poking into my
back.

It was then that Greg said:

"Want--Simpson."

That frightened me more than anything almost, for Simpson was a sort
of stuffed flannel duck-thing that he'd had when he was very little,
and he hadn't thought of it for years. None of us ever knew why he