Chapter SEVEN: Out in the Storm

Neither of the children had ever feared electric storms, and had, indeed, rather enjoyed the majesty and grandeur of them. But being alone in a dark wood, when the thunder was growling and the vivid forks of lightning flashed across the sky, was vastly different from admiring the coming storm safely from their own cozy home.

They pelted along as fast as the curving path would allow, their hearts pounding with excitement and the rapid pace.

“It’s raining already,” cried Polly Wiggles in alarm, as a drop spattered on her cheek and was rapidly followed by another. “Oh, our organdie dresses!”

Oh, the organdie dresses indeed, for it was raining hard, and had been for several minutes, but the trees had proved a protection.

“Oh, Wiggles, I’m scared!” quavered Jeannette at a particularly loud clap of thunder. “There isn’t a house we can go in until we reach the end of the woods, and Daddy always says that a forest is the worst place to be in an electric storm, as so many trees are struck. Whatever shall we do?”

“We can’t _do_ anything,” responded Polly Wiggles in suspiciously shaky tones. “It’s as black as a pocket, and I can hardly see you, so we wouldn’t dare branch off anywhere, and it would take us just as long to try and go back to Miss Helen’s as it would to keep on toward home. Isn’t the lightning terrible? Nothing looks a bit natural, and I don’t even know if we’re on the path. It’s so dark I can’t see it at all, can you?”

There is always a moment of terrific stillness before a big storm breaks, followed by a high wind; and the trees groaned and shivered as the first blast of the gale twisted the limbs and whipped the branches, nearly taking away the children’s breath. On top of it came a dreadful downpour that seemed as if the sky had opened, and in a twinkling both children were drenched to the skin. That was just the beginning. For years afterward, that storm was to be talked about as the “big storm,” for never had thunder and lightning been so intense, and never had the damage been so great.

The poor children were chilled through and through, and their sopping-wet clothing clung to them till their teeth chattered with the cold. The butterfly hair-ribbons had blown away long ago, and Wiggles’ hair was a silky wet mass on her head, but Jeannette’s long, wringing-wet curls were blown and twisted about her throat till it seemed as if cold, damp fingers were trying to choke her.

“Wiggles,” panted Jeannette, trying to lift her voice above the blast of the gale and the thunder’s boom, “we must get out of this woods or we’ll be killed by a falling tree.”

“Let’s run till we come to that little clearing in the middle, and see if we can’t get in that old coffee-mill,” shouted Wiggles in reply, clinging to her sister.

Down the rough path, black as night, ran the little girls, slipping on the wet moss, banging into tree-trunks, slapped by the heavy branches, falling into the mud, picking themselves up, and struggling on. What would Mother and Daddy think if they knew their darlings were in such danger?

Wiggles’ slipper, held by a little narrow strap, came off, and the poor child, unable to find it in the darkness, was forced to continue over cruel stones that cut her tender feet and made every step a torture.

Then, just when it seemed as if their panting little hearts could stand no more, there was a crash, and a ball of fire seemed to drop from the sky, while it felt as if the earth rose up and hit them.

* * * * *

“I am so glad,” remarked Mrs. Cole, “that the children said they would go home by the highway. This is the most terrific storm I ever remember, and the dear little mites would be paralyzed with fear if they were out in it a minute. I shudder at the idea of any one in those woods to-night. There is no doubt but that lightning has struck there several times. It looked as if a ball of flame shot right down from the sky. I never would have believed that we could have such a severe storm so early in the season, but the weather has been unusually close.”

Miss Helen walked about nervously.

“I am afraid I did wrong to let them return. I should have kept them here, but I never saw a storm spring up so rapidly,” she replied in a troubled voice, drawn against her will to the window. “Oh, look at that flash,”--with a little scream. “I never saw anything like it in my life. Something was struck near by.”

“I don’t think you need worry at all about the children, Helen,” returned her mother. “I should never forgive myself if they had been out in this, but they had ample time to reach home before the first drops fell. That highway cuts the distance in half, you know, for the wood-path curves and winds so, that it is far longer. Wasn’t Elizabeth cunning? She simply beamed when you spoke about the May Frolic. I can just imagine them now, telling the others all about it.”

“They are very dear children,” agreed her daughter warmly. “Jeannette is very much as her mother was, when she was a little girl. Personally I would love to have one of them for May Queen, but of course it would never do to show partiality, and the choice by vote is the only fair way. I am so nervous over them,” she continued, “that I am going to call up and be assured they are safely home.”

The telephone gave no response, for the storm had disconnected the wires, and it was fortunate for Miss Helen’s peace of mind that she did not know the danger her little friends were in.

It was an experience to cause the stoutest heart to quail, let alone two children who had always been surrounded by the tenderest love and care. But in spite of Miss Helen’s nervousness she never dreamed but that the children were safe at home, eating roast beef and mashed potatoes, and happily recounting the afternoon’s visit to all the home folks.

The others just beat the storm, and the automobile drew up at The Lilacs as the first big drops pattered down.

“Haven’t the children returned yet?” Mrs. Eaton inquired with surprise as Hannah opened the front door.

“No, ma’am,” responded Hannah. “I guess Miss Cole thought she’d better keep them till the storm was over. It’s going to be a hard one, ma’am.”

“I wants to see my Jet and Wiggles,” piped up Cubby in a grieved voice.

“Undoubtedly they will stay with Helen,” said Grandma with an anxious glance out of the window. “She knows that James can get them after the storm is over. Goodness, what a crash!” And there was a general run to close the windows as the rain came down in sheets.

Dr. Eaton and Grandpa Carr, who had been in the city all day, arrived next.

“Why, where are the youngsters?” inquired Grandpa, looking about in surprise. It seemed so unusually quiet without their happy voices and merry laughter.

“They went to Helen’s for an afternoon tea-party,” replied mother in a troubled voice, “and have not returned. I thought they would reach home long before us, but Helen makes such a fuss over the children, that she has undoubtedly prepared some delightful surprise for them, that has kept them longer than usual. You know what lovely tea-parties the youngsters always have when they go there. Nothing is too much trouble for her, to give them a good time, and I remember she told me that there was something she was anxious to talk over with them. Still, I wish they were safely home. I like my little brood around me in a storm like this. Just hear that gale. It sounds as if it were hailing.”

Daddy and Grandpa looked worried. It was not like the children to remain, if it was at all possible to return home, and the same thought was in each mind, although they said nothing to alarm the others.

“I’ll just ’phone and tell them we’ll be over later when the storm abates,” said Daddy casually. “H’hm,--the line’s out of order.”

Grandfather was quietly getting out his raincoat and rubbers.

“Guess I’ll take the car, and run over to Cole’s now, even if the storm _is_ pretty bad,” said Daddy with a glance at Grandpa, who was slipping a flashlight into his pocket. “Want to come along?”

Neither let himself think that there was the slightest possibility of the children being out in the storm, but both pulled on old caps and heavy wraps.

“Oh, if my babies were out in this!” shuddered Mother.

“It’s not at all likely,” soothed Grandpa. “They’re undoubtedly at Helen’s, as cozy as can be. Still, I’ll just paddle along, too, and we’ll make sure.”

It was fortunate for their peace of mind that the folks at The Lilacs believed the little girls chattering with Miss Helen and her mother. Still, it was comforting to know that Daddy and Grandpa would soon whisk them home.

It was all the men could do to stand up, as they struggled out to the garage and climbed into the closed car. There was a tense line around Daddy’s mouth, and Grandpa’s ruddy face was white, as the powerful car whizzed along the muddy, slippery road, as fast as it could go with safety.

It seemed an age before the light from the little cottage-windows came in sight.

Miss Helen was surprised when Queenie opened the door to two dripping men, and she hastened out from the pantry, where she had been putting away the remains of the party.

“I suppose my two little girls are safely with you?” said Dr. Eaton, listening in vain for a sound of childish voices.

A horrified cry stopped him, and Miss Helen turned so white he thought she would faint.

“The children?” she gasped. “Haven’t they reached The Lilacs yet? They left here almost an hour ago.”

Mrs. Cole was as much alarmed as her daughter.

“Don’t you think they have gone into one of the farmhouses on the highway?” she asked in a frightened voice. “I told them to be sure to go that way, as it was so short, and I thought they had plenty of time to reach home safely.”

Dr. Eaton groaned. “I had already told them to use the path through the woods because of the scarlet-fever epidemic along the road,” he explained hurriedly. “That’s probably what they have done. My poor babies! No, don’t reproach yourself, Helen. They could have reached home easily by the highway. Have hot blankets and a hot drink ready, please. No one knows in what condition we shall find them.”

The men plunged out into the night, leaving Miss Helen sobbing and wringing her hands.

And, oh, the weary search that was started through the pouring rain by Daddy and Grandpa. Where, oh, where, were the children?

* * * * *

When the terrible crash had occurred, the poor children had thought that their last moment had come. The earth rocked and they went crashing to the ground.

“Oh,” screamed Jeannette, “that ball of fire!” But Wiggles lay white and silent for a while, almost stunned into unconsciousness.

Lightning had struck the tree right in back of them, and torn it in two. It was the very tree they had stood under while Wiggles had groped for her lost slipper a few minutes before. While just a short distance away, a giant oak, one of the mighty monarchs of the forest, fell with a crash, fortunately away from the trembling children, or they would have been crushed to death.

“Jet, let’s pray,” gasped Elizabeth. So holding tightly to each other, the two little sisters asked that they might be kept from harm.

The very next flash of lightning showed them the clearing in the woods, and the ramshackle old mill that had been discarded years before. Into its poor shelter crept the thankful children, and there, in its dilapidated and dirty ruins, clasped in each other’s arms, Grandpa and Daddy found them, almost dazed with the strain they had been under, and so weak they could hardly stand.

“I knew you’d come,” gasped Wiggles hysterically, as clasped with Jeannette in Grandpa’s arms, while Daddy drove carefully, they made the return trip.

The thunder wasn’t quite so terrifying with Grandpa’s coat-collar to snuggle against, although the men thought the journey would never end, and their loved charges be safe from danger.

For years afterwards neither Daddy nor Grandpa could think of the search for the children without shuddering, and it was with thankful hearts that they saw the lights from Miss Helen’s cottage-windows in the distance. In five minutes Wiggles and Jet, stripped of their soaking garments, were rubbed until they cried for mercy, and then wrapped in warm blankets. Then Daddy bandaged Wiggles’ cut and swollen foot, and Miss Helen gave them big glasses filled with steaming-hot lemonade, which she made Grandpa and Daddy partake of as well, for they were soaked, too.

After the last sip had been taken, the little girls were wrapped in clothes miles too big for them, and wound about with blankets until they resembled two very large cocoons, and tucked away in the auto, with their wet clothes in a sodden pile at the back. Then, snuggling down by Grandpa with a sigh of content, they went whirling toward home.