, please. Why,
I should feel like a deserter if I went off!" pleaded Gypsy.

The dark cloud seemed to have passed away, and the wind was still. After
thinking a while, Mr. Hallam decided to let them stay.

In the middle of the night, Gypsy was awakened by a great noise. The wind
was blowing a miniature hurricane through the trees, and the rain was
falling in torrents. She could hear it spatter on the canvas roof, and
drop from the poles, and gurgle in a stream through the ditch. She could
hear, too, the loud, angry murmur of the trout brook and the splashing of
hundreds of rivulets that dashed down the slope and over the gorge into
it.

She gave Sarah a little pinch, and woke her up.

"Oh, Sarah, it's come! It's raining like everything, and here we are, and
we can't get to Mr. Fisher's--isn't it splendid?"

"Ye-es," said Sarah; "it's very splendid, only isn't it a little--wet?
It's dropping right on my cheek."

"Oh, that's nothing--why, here I can put my hand right down into a puddle
of water. It's just like being at sea."

"I know it. Are people at sea always so--cold?"

"Why, I'm not cold. Only we might as well wear our water-proofs. The
leaves _are_ a little damp."

So they put on their tweed cloaks, and Gypsy listened to the wind, and
thought it was very poetic and romantic, and that she was perfectly happy.
And just as she had lain down again there came a great gust of rain, and
one of the rivulets that were sweeping down the mountain splashed in under
the canvas, and ran right through the middle of the tent like a brook.
Sarah jumped up with energy.

"O--oh, it's gone right over my feet!"

"My shoes are sailing away, as true as you live!" cried Gypsy, and sprang
just in time to save them.

The dinner-basket and a tin pail were fast following, when Tom appeared
upon the scene, and called through the wall of shawls,--

"Girls, you'll have to go to Mrs. Fisher's. Be quick as you can!"

"I don't want to a bit," said Gypsy, who was sitting in a pool of water.

"Well, I'm going," announced Sarah, with unheard-of decision. "Camping out
is very nice, but drowning is another thing."

"Well--I--suppose it _would_ be a--little--dryer," said Gypsy, slowly.

The girls were soon dressed, and Tom lighted a lantern and went with them.
A few peals of thunder growled sullenly down the valley, and one bright
flash of lightning glared far through the forest. Sarah was afraid she
should be struck. Gypsy was thinkin