stage-driver was
right. It was "coming to stay."

"Ye see, ma'am, ef we hadn't started when we did, like enough we
couldn't a got home to-night," he vouchsafed over his shoulder to Miss
Salisbury, as they rattled on.

"Dear me!" she exclaimed at thought of her brood. Those young things
were having the best of times. It was "wildly exciting," as Clem
Forsythe said, to be packed in; those on the end seats huddling away
from the rain as much as possible, under cover of the curtains buttoned
down fast. And hilarity ran high. They sang songs; never quite finishing
one, but running shrilly off to others, which were produced on several
different keys maybe, according to the mood of the singers. And as
every girl wanted to sing her favorite song, there were sometimes
various compositions being produced in different quarters of the big
stage, till no one particular melody could be said to have the right of
way. And Miss Salisbury sat in the midst of the babel, and smiled as
much as her anxiety would allow, at the merriment. And as it was in this
stage, so the other stages were counterparts. And the gay tunes and
merry laughter floated back all along the cavalcade, mingling
harmoniously with the rainfall.

Suddenly an awful clap of thunder reverberated in the sky. The songs
ended in squeals of dismay, and the laughter died away.

"Oh--oh--we're going to have a thunder storm!" screamed more than one
girl, huddling up closer to her next neighbor, to clutch her
frantically.

"Oh, I'm so afraid of the thunder!" screamed Amy Garrett.

"You goose, it won't hurt you." Lucy Bennett, whom Amy had crouched
against, gave her a little push.

"It will. It will. My uncle was struck once," said Amy, rebounding from
the push to grasp Lucy frantically around the neck.

"You nearly choked me to death," exclaimed Lucy, untwisting the nervous
hands; "don't get so scared. Your uncle never was struck by the thunder,
and we haven't had any lightning yet; so I wouldn't yell till we do."

"Well, there it is now," cried Amy, covering her eyes. And there it was
now, to be sure, in a blinding flash; to be followed by deeper rolls of
thunder, drowning the screams of the frightened girls, and the plunging
of the horses that didn't like it much better.

Mr. Kimball peered out and squinted to the right and to the left through
the blinding storm; then he turned his horses suddenly off from the
road, into a narrow lane. "Oh, why do you?" began Miss S