Cold brushing water was dripping over me, pouring over my hood and blurring my sight. The rain was pattering, slipping through the leaves. My pony plodded along, his hooves slipping into the mud. My hands were numb as I pulled my soaked hood lower. I saw before me only grey sky and rain filling the earth. My hands were now limp upon the reins, not bothering to guide the pony. Chilled rain bit at me, seeping through my cloak. The wind was whirling, chilling me more. The pony stumbled and slipped. We each were silent, too cold to groan. I then grasped the reins tighter and steered towards the woods.

 I left my pony behind in the dry stable with a good bail of hay to feed on, and then I ran up the path.  The flowers were bent and the hill was running over with water. I hurried and stopped at the door. I reached for the knob and fumbled to turn it. As I opened the door, it creaked in a homelike way. Shutting the door behind me, I flung off my cloak, hat, and scarf and hung them upon three pegs. I rubbed my hair trying to get it dry. Tea! I thought. Rushing over to the fireplace, I poked the embers to start a blaze. I sighed with delight as I saw the flames begin to crackle. I hopped over to the kitchen to grab a red kettle, then filled it with water and walked back to the hearth. Bending down I hung the kettle above the fire.   I started to run about the parlor, lighting lamps to warm up the place. When I was finished, I walked over to the red paned window and gazed out. Grey sky and rain. How else could you describe it? Behind me I heard the clock strike three.     

“Oh, the mail hobbit is late!” I grunted. I walked back to see how the fire was growing. Smoke was issuing from the kettle. Soon it began to sing in a whining high pitch tone. Hurrying back over to the kitchen, I opened a cupboard. I took out a blue cup and saucer and ran back to the parlor. As I laid them down upon the table they clattered from my slight clumsiness.  I reached to take the kettle off and heard a stomping up the path. Jumping up, I walked to the door. I opened it and the rain grew louder. The mail hobbit (whose hat was bailing out with water) was going through a pile of letters upon the mat. We greeted one another, and he handed me a few letters. He then walked away, whistling through the rain.