the window。 She heard the sharp rain; and the deep running of
water。 She knew her husband was outside。
〃Fred;〃 she called; 〃Fred!〃
Away in the night was a hoarse; brutal roar of a mass of
water rushing downwards。
She went downstairs。 She could not understand the multiplied
running of water。 Stepping down the step into the kitchen; she
put her foot into water。 The kitchen was flooded。 Where did it
e from? She could not understand。
Water was running in out of the scullery。 She paddled through
barefoot; to see。 Water was bubbling fiercely under the outer
door。 She was afraid。 Then something washed against her;
something twined under her foot。 It was the riding whip。 On the
table were the rug and the cushion and the parcel from the
gig。
He had e home。
〃Tom!〃 she called; afraid of her own voice。
She opened the door。 Water ran in with a horrid sound。
Everywhere was moving water; a sound of waters。
〃Tom!〃 she cried; standing in her nightdress with the candle;
calling into the darkness and the flood out of the doorway。
〃Tom! Tom!〃
And she listened。 Fred appeared behind her; in trousers and
shirt。
〃Where is he?〃 he asked。
He looked at the flood; then at his mother。 She seemed small
and uncanny; elvish; in her nightdress。
〃Go upstairs;〃 he said。 〃Hell be in th stable。〃
〃To……om! To……om!〃 cried the elderly woman; with a
long; unnatural; penetrating call that chilled her son to the
marrow。 He quickly pulled on his boots and his coat。
〃Go upstairs; mother;〃 he said; 〃Ill go an see where he
is。〃
〃To……om! To……o……om!〃 ra