after one parting
look at the camp under the gooseberry bushes.

It was truly a comical sight. The old umbrellas swayed uneasily above
the green domes below and they could catch glimpses of the gossamer-clad
figures, including a generous exposure of bare feet and legs in the
leafy gloom beneath.

Maggie came to the sitting-room door a few moments later in the last
throes of astonishment.

"And what do you think they be doing now? It's radin' they be--radin'!
It's swimmin' they'll be doin' soon I'm a thinkin'!"

Maggie returned to her post indignant at such carryings on.

The rain was coming down steadily. Water was pouring off the eaves in
great streams, branches were dripping, and some chickens huddled in a
fence corner in the adjoining yard were so dejected that not even an
aspiring tail-feather pointed heavenward. The streets were almost
deserted and the few passers-by hurried along wet and forlorn. Mrs.
Halford began to wonder a little anxiously how long the gooseberry
campers would stick it out. She began to have painful visions of sore
throats and bronchitis or at the best colds, caught from sitting on the
wet ground. She was also fearful lest Mrs. Morton might not approve
after all.

"Have you got plenty of boiling water, Maggie?" she called. Hot drinks
and hot foot baths could surely be relied upon to ward off colds, she
reassured herself, if they didn't stay too long. She wondered if they
were really enjoying it.

The children were beginning to wonder themselves, though not for worlds
would either Chicken Little or Katy have confessed to the other that
this rainy day playhouse was not all she had fancied.

The trio huddled together close under the two umbrellas. The rain was
pounding down through the gooseberry screen now and the carpet was
decidedly damp on the edges. Little streams of water ran down the
furrows in the garden about them. They had eaten all the cookies but
one, which got wet and dissolved in a gluey paste. Katy read away
valiantly but the story didn't seem as absorbing as it had been the
night before--the children found their attention wandering.

Gertie's eyes kept straying to the forked streaks of lightning that were
cutting the black clouds overhead.

"It's getting pretty close," she complained finally.

But the others' courage was still good.

"Pooh, who minds a little lightning," said Katy scornfully.

"I'm not afraid of lightning," said Chicken Little valiantly, "but I
wi