"I have never in my life seen such big rain-drops," said the Blue-gum.
"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for--"

But--Crash! came rain before he could finish; and in two seconds
everything was sopping wet. The noise of it was deafening,

"Why, it's a cloud-burst!" shouted the Blue-gum. "Half of my leaves
have been stripped off already." Then he peered through the rain and
the dark to see how the Little Red House was taking it. "Why, what's
the matter with your face?" he cried. "You look awful."

"I'm crying!" sobbed the Little Red House. "That's all--just crying.
"Can't you see the tears?"

"Nonsense!" said the Blue-gum. "Those are not tears. It's just the
rain-water running off your window-sills."

"I tell you I'm crying!" wailed the Little Red House. "I'm crying
bitterly. I should know, shouldn't I? I'm shivering and crying
because I'm cold and lonely and miserable."

"Oh, very well," agreed the Blue-gum. "You are crying. But if this
rain doesn't stop soon, you'll cry the front path away. It certainly
is wet."

Very late that night the rain eased a little and then stopped
altogether. The tears ceased to run from the eyes of the Little
Red House, and they now came only in drops, slower and slower, falling
into the great pool by the front door.