it now?"

"I have no idea."

"You can look."

"I refuse to look. Amiability has its limit."

"I had intended to walk home, if I found the fern in time," said Anne.

"Ah? But I think we are going to have a storm. Probably a
thunder-storm," said Heathcote, languidly.

"How do you know? And--what shall we do?"

"I know, because I have been watching that little patch of sky up there.
As to what we shall do--we can try the mill."

They rose as he spoke. Anne took the plant case. "I will carry this,"
she said; "the walking-leaf must be humored."

"So long as I have the dinner basket I remain sweet-tempered," answered
Heathcote.

She put on her hat, but her neck-tie and cuffs were gone.

"I have them safe," he said. "They are with the potatoes."

Reaching the mill, they tried the door, but found it securely fastened.
They tried the house door and windows, with the same result. Unless they
broke several panes of glass they could not gain entrance, and even then
it was a question whether Heathcote would be able to thrust inward the
strong oaken stick above, which held the sash down.

"Do mount your horse and ride home," urged Anne. "I shall be safe here,
and in danger of nothing worse than a summer shower. I will go back in
the ravine and find a beech-tree. Its close, strong little leaves will
keep off the rain almost entirely. Why should both of us be drenched?"

"Neither of us shall be. Come with me, and quickly, for the storm is
close upon us. There is a little cave, or rather hollow in the rock, not
far above the road; I think it will shelter us. I, for one, have no
desire to be out in your 'summer shower,' and ride home to Caryl's
afterward in a limp, blue-stained condition."

"How long will it take us to reach this cave?" said Anne, hesitating.

"Three minutes, perhaps."

"I suppose we had better go, then," she said, slowly. "But pray do not
take those things. They will all have to be brought down again."

"They shall be," said Heathcote, leading the way toward the road.

It was not a long climb, but in some places the ascent was steep. A
little path was their guide to the "cave"--a hollow in the ledge, which
the boys of the neighborhood considered quite a fortress, a bandit's
retreat. A rude ladder formed the front steps of their rock nest, and
Anne was soon ensconced within, her gray shawl making a carpet for them
both. The cave was about seven feet in depth, and four or five in
breadth; the rock