Mrs. Green pressed close up to Lois. "Ain't you any idea where she's gone?" said she. "If you have, I'll jest slip off my dress skirt, an'

you give me an old shawl, an' I'll go with you an' see if we can't find her."

"I'll go, too," cried Amanda. "Don't you know which way they went, Lois?"

Just then the south side-door slammed sharply.

"She's come," said Lois, in a strained voice.

"Well, I'm thankful!" cried Mrs. Green. "Hadn't you better run out an' help her off with her wet things, Lois?"

But the sitting-room door opened, and Mrs. Field stood there, a tall black shadow hardly shaped out from the gloom. The women all arose and hurried toward her. There was a shrill flurry of greeting. Mrs.

Field's voice arose high and terrified above it.

"Who is it?" she cried out. "Who's here?"

"Why, your old neighbors, Mrs. Field. Don't you know us--Mandy an'

Mis' Green an' Mis' Babc.o.c.k? We come down on an excursion ticket to Boston--only three dollars an' sixty cents--an' we thought we'd surprise you."

"Ain't you dreadful wet, Mis' Field?" interposed Mrs. Green's solicitous voice.

"You'd better go and change your dress," said Amanda.

"When did you come?" said Mrs. Field.

"Jest now. For the land sakes, Mis' Field, your dress is soppin' wet!

Do go an' change it, or you'll catch your death of cold."

Mrs. Field did not stir. The hail pelted on the windows. "Now, you go right along an' change it," cried Mrs. Babc.o.c.k.

"Well," said Mrs. Field vaguely, "mebbe I'd better." She fumbled her way unsteadily toward her bedroom door.

"You go help her; it's dark as a pocket," said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k imperatively to Lois; and the girl followed her mother.

"They act dreadful queer, seems to me," whispered Mrs. Babc.o.c.k, when the bedroom door was closed.

"I guess it's jest because they're so surprised to see us," Mrs.

Green whispered back.

"Well, if I ain't wanted, I can go back to where I come from, if I do have to throw the money away," Mrs. Babc.o.c.k said, almost aloud. "I think they act queer, both on 'em. I should think they might seem a little mite more pleased to see three old neighbors so."

"Mebbe it's the thunder-shower that's kind of dazed 'em," said Amanda. She herself was much afraid of a thunder-shower. She had her feet well drawn up, and her hand over her eyes.

"It's a mercy Mis' Field wa'n't killed out in it," said Mrs. Green.

"I don't see what in creation she stayed out so in it for," rejoined Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. "She must have seen the cloud comin' up. This is a pretty big house, ain't it? An' I should think it was furnished nice, near's I can see, but it's terrible old-fashioned."

Amanda huddled up in her chair, looked warily at the strange shadows in this unfamiliar room, and wished she were at home.

The storm increased rather than diminished. When Mrs. Field and Lois returned, all the women, at Mrs. Babc.o.c.k's order, drew their chairs close together in the middle of the room.

"I've always heard that was the safest place," said she. "That was the way old Dr. Barnes always used to do. He had thirteen children; nine of 'em was girls. Whenever he saw a thunder-shower comin' up, he used to make Mis' Barnes an' the children go into the parlor, an'

then they'd all set in the middle of the floor, an' he'd offer prayer. He used to say he'd do his part an' get in the safest place he knew of, an' then ask the Lord to help him. Mandy Pratt!"

"What say, Mis' Babc.o.c.k?" returned Amanda, trembling.

"Have you got your hoop-skirt on?"

Amanda sprang up. "Yes, I have. I forgot it!"

"For the land sakes! I should think you'd thought of that, scared as you pretend to be in a thunder-shower. Do go in the bedroom an' drop it off this minute! Lois, you go with her."

While Amanda and Lois were gone there was a slight lull in the storm.

"I guess it's kind of lettin' up," said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. "This is a nice house you've got here, ain't it, Mis' Field?"

"Yes, 'tis," replied Jane Field.

"I s'pose there was a good deal of nice furniture in it, wa'n't there?"

"Considerable."

"Was there nice beddin'?"

"Yes."

"I s'pose there was plenty of table-cloths an' such things? Have you bought any new furniture, Mis' Field?"

"No, I ain't," said Mrs. Field. She moved her chair a little to make room for Lois and Amanda when they returned. Lois sat next her mother.

"I didn't know but you had. I thought mebbe the furniture was kind of old-fashioned. Have you--oh, ain't it awful?"

The storm had gathered itself like an animal for a fiercer onset. The room was lit up with a wild play of blue fire. The thunder crashed closely in its wake.

"Oh, we hadn't ought to talk of anything but the mercy of the Lord an' our sins!" wailed Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. "Don't let's talk of anything else. That struck somewheres near. There's no knowin' where it'll come next. I never see such a shower. We don't have any like it in Green River. Oh, I hope we're all prepared!"

"That's the princ.i.p.al thing," said Mrs. Green, in a solemn trembling voice.

Amanda said nothing. She thought of her will; a vision of the nicely ordered rooms she had left seemed to show out before her in the flare of the lightning; in spite of her terror it was a comfort to her.

"We'd ought to be thankful in a time like this that we ain't any of us got any great wickedness on our consciences," said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k.

"It must be terrible for them that have, thinkin' they may die any minute when the next flash comes. I don't envy 'em."

"It must be terrible," a.s.sented Mrs. Green, like an amen.

"It's bad enough with the sins we've got on all our minds, the best of us," continued Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. "Think how them that's broken G.o.d's commandments an' committed murders an' robberies must feel. I shouldn't think they could stan' it, unless they burst right out an'

confessed to everybody--should you, Mis' Field?"

"I guess so," said Mrs. Field, in a hard voice.