It was growing darker with an occasional flash of lightning and an accompanying growl of thunder off in the distance. Mrs. Halford turned to the children with a twinkle of resolution in her eyes and astonished them by saying:

"Yes, you may. Off with your shoes and stockings and put on your gossamers. You may stay out in the rain just as long as you like. You too, Chicken Little, I'll be responsible to your mother. You can take my gossamer."

"Oh, Mother," Katy and Gertie both flung themselves at their little mother for an ecstatic hug.

"Yes," she continued, as soon as they released her. "You may take those old umbrellas in the woodhouse and go back under the gooseberry bushes if you wish--I want you to be thoroughly satisfied, so you won't always be teasing to go out in the wet."

"You don't need to think we'll get tired of it, Mother," Katy a.s.sured her.

"My, I could stay out all day--I love it so," Chicken Little protested.

"We'll stay as long as you'll let us, Mumsey."

Mrs. Halford smiled.

Shoes and stockings came off in a jiffy and the children ran out jumping up and down gleefully. They splashed about in the little puddles in the old brick walk, and dabbled their bare toes in the wet gra.s.s. They danced and squealed, catching the splashing drops in their hands and flinging them in each other's faces until the water was dripping in streams from noses and chins.

"Isn't it grand?"

"My, I never had so much fun in my life!"

"'Tisn't a bit cold."

They frisked and splashed till the novelty began to wear off a little, then adopted Mrs. Halford's suggestion about going back to their gooseberry playhouse.

The rain was coming down harder now and the roll of thunder and play of lightning were more frequent. But the little girls were too much absorbed with their own plans to notice this.

"I shall not take Minnie out in this rain--she would be sure to take a nasty cold," said Gertie decidedly, heartlessly denying her child the pleasures she was enjoying.

"Let's leave the dolls in the house--they'll get all messy--besides the paint comes off if you get them a teeny bit wet."

"Let's play we're sailing in a boat--and the umbrellas can be the sails and----"

"No, let's be Swiss Family Robinson in the tree house--we can just play pull the ladder up after us."

They all agreed to this and started out to fit up their abode under almost as discouraging circ.u.mstances as that famous family are supposed to have faced. Taking two of the old umbrellas Katy propped them up to reinforce their foliage roof over the driest spot she could find. She worked quite a while before she could get them moored securely. It was hard to manage with the rain driving in her face and the wind tugging at the umbrellas.

"My, it'll be fine when we get it all fixed. See, it's hardly a bit wet here----"

"Let's bring an old piece of carpet and spread down--and a book. We can read here just as snug."

"Yes, and some cookies and apples--I'm getting hungry."

"All right--let's."

The children plodded back and forth under the remaining umbrellas looking like a six-legged mushroom. They found it difficult to get the carpet and provender safely placed without getting wet. And however willing they were to be ducks themselves water didn't seem adapted to carpets or cookies.

Mrs. Halford watched the trio busy and dripping and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. The Irish maid in the kitchen was scandalized but interested.

"Did you ever see the likes of 'em? They're that wet, ma'am, they leave puddles on me floor every time they come in and they be after stayin'

out there and 'atin,' ma'am! Now drinkin' would sure be aisier."

"Never mind, Maggie, it does seem foolish, but I want them to have their fill of it."

"Fill--it's sloppin' over they are already. Howly Saints--hear that thunder! They'll not be stayin' out long to that music I'm thinkin'."

Mrs. Halford smiled and settled down to her sewing after one parting look at the camp under the gooseberry bushes.

It was truly a comical sight. The old umbrellas swayed uneasily above the green domes below and they could catch glimpses of the gossamer-clad figures, including a generous exposure of bare feet and legs in the leafy gloom beneath.

Maggie came to the sitting-room door a few moments later in the last throes of astonishment.

"And what do you think they be doing now? It's radin' they be--radin'!

It's swimmin' they'll be doin' soon I'm a thinkin'!"

Maggie returned to her post indignant at such carryings on.

The rain was coming down steadily. Water was pouring off the eaves in great streams, branches were dripping, and some chickens huddled in a fence corner in the adjoining yard were so dejected that not even an aspiring tail-feather pointed heavenward. The streets were almost deserted and the few pa.s.sers-by hurried along wet and forlorn. Mrs.

Halford began to wonder a little anxiously how long the gooseberry campers would stick it out. She began to have painful visions of sore throats and bronchitis or at the best colds, caught from sitting on the wet ground. She was also fearful lest Mrs. Morton might not approve after all.

"Have you got plenty of boiling water, Maggie?" she called. Hot drinks and hot foot baths could surely be relied upon to ward off colds, she rea.s.sured herself, if they didn't stay too long. She wondered if they were really enjoying it.

The children were beginning to wonder themselves, though not for worlds would either Chicken Little or Katy have confessed to the other that this rainy day playhouse was not all she had fancied.

The trio huddled together close under the two umbrellas. The rain was pounding down through the gooseberry screen now and the carpet was decidedly damp on the edges. Little streams of water ran down the furrows in the garden about them. They had eaten all the cookies but one, which got wet and dissolved in a gluey paste. Katy read away valiantly but the story didn't seem as absorbing as it had been the night before--the children found their attention wandering.

Gertie's eyes kept straying to the forked streaks of lightning that were cutting the black clouds overhead.

"It's getting pretty close," she complained finally.

But the others' courage was still good.

"Pooh, who minds a little lightning," said Katy scornfully.

"I'm not afraid of lightning," said Chicken Little valiantly, "but I wish it wouldn't thunder so hard."

"Bet you are afraid, Jane Morton."

"I am not, Katy Halford. I never said a word about going in. I just said I wished it wouldn't thunder so much--and I do."

A long reverberating roll gave point to her wish.

Gertie and Chicken Little both squirmed uneasily, but Katy caught her breath and went on reading, scrooging up a little closer under the umbrellas. The continuous drip from one of the umbrella points down on her back was making her nervous, she said. She could feel a little damp spot coming through her gossamer. Gertie drew her bare feet up under her and cast longing looks toward the house. She was getting cold and the drifting smoke from the kitchen chimney looked wondrously inviting. She did wish Katy would stop reading. But Katy read on as steadily as the rain pattered, rolling out the big words reckless of mistakes and lifting her shrill little voice almost to a shriek when it thundered, as if she defied the elements to do their worst.

"I don't think it's very intrusting," Gertie interrupted plaintively.

"Why, Gertie Halford, you said you just loved it last night."