She looked at the striped sunshade she has brought back from the
dressmaker's--she had once been apprenticed to a dressmaker--but
Ned said that a storm was blowing and she had better leave the
sunshade behind.

The rain beat in their faces and the wind came sweeping down the
mountain and made them stagger. Sometimes the road went straight
on, sometimes it turned suddenly and went up-hill. After walking
for a mile they came to the school-house. A number of men were
waiting outside, and one of the boys told them that the priest had
said they were to keep a look out for the lecturer, and Ned said
that he had better stay with them, that his lantern would be
useful to show her the way. They went into a long, smoky room. The
women had collected into one corner, and the priest was walking up
and down, his hands thrust into the pockets of his overcoat. Now
he stopped in his walk to scold two children who were trying to
light a peat fire in a tumbled down grate.

"Don't be tired, go on blowing," he said. "You are the laziest
child I have seen this long while."

Ned came in and blew out his lantern, but the lady he had mistaken
for the lecturer was a lady who had come to live in the
neighbourhood lately, and the priest said:--

"You must be very much interested in poultry, ma'am, to come out
on such a night as this."

The lady stood shaking her waterproof.