THUNDER AND GOOSEBERRY BUSHES
May seemed to have traded places with April that year for it was a month
of many showers. Poor Marian got tired of watching the pelting rain and
Mrs. Morton complained that it was simply impossible to clean house as
the sunniest day was liable to end in a downpour.
Dr. Morton's letters from the west full of glowing accounts of the
sunshine in Kansas and Colorado seemed almost irritating in their
contrast. Alice, too, wrote of lovely spring weather, declaring it had
been almost hot some days.
The children did not mind the rain--they merely objected to being shut
in on account of it. Chicken Little told Dick a long tale of woe one
evening when he came up to inquire about Marian and get the latest news
of Alice.
"Fine weather for ducks and frogs, Chicken Little. Just try standing in
the edge of a puddle--saying croak, croak and see if you don't like it.
I'll have to give you a few swimming lessons," he consoled her
teasingly.
"Don't put any such nonsense into her head, Dick. She is a born duck now
and is forever teasing to go wading," Mrs. Morton had replied.
"Why we'll have to call you Ducky Daddles instead of Chicken Little,"
said Dick.
Mrs. Morton repeated the incident to Mrs. Halford the following day.
"Children certainly do have the craziest notions. Chicken Little has
been fretting all spring to go out in the rain. I suspect several slight
colds she has had are due to experiments of that kind." Mrs. Morton
looked both amused and annoyed.
"Yes, Katy and Gertie have had the same craze--I guess it's natural. I
remember the spring rains used to have the same attraction for me when I
was a child. My father used to say children should be born
web-footed--they love water so. Puddles do look tempting. I think the
thing that cured me was one of those dashing spring showers that bring
the earthworms out. Some kind child made me believe they rained down. I
loathed the slimy things. You couldn't get me out doors, if it so much
as looked like rain, for weeks after. I kept imagining the crawly
things dropping down on my hair and face. Ugh! I remember just how I
felt even yet."
"That might be a good way to cure our would-be ducklings."
"No, I don't think so--fear is never the best way to cure a child, and I
like my girls to love rain as well as shine. But I've been wondering if
it might not be a good idea to let them go out once in a good hard
thunder shower just to get it out of their systems--though, of course,
there would be fear in that, too."
Some two weeks after this conversation between the mothers, Chicken
Little was spending Saturday morning at the Halfords'. The children were
playing keep house out under the gooseberry bushes. The bushes were very
old and tall. Mr. Halford kept them trimmed up underneath, forming leafy
aisles about three feet high. Here the little girls delighted to set up
their doll goods in the late spring and early summer.
They had everything arranged to their taste on this particular morning.
They had settled down in charge of a most extensive dolls' hospital,
using the aisles between the rows of bushes for wards and the green
gooseberries for pills--a most convenient arrangement because the supply
of medicine never gave out. But, alas, before Dr. Katy had time to
inspect a single ward, big drops began to patter down, and Gertie's
cherished Minnie, suffering from a terrible attack of pneumonia, was
well sprinkled before her anxious mother could remove her to a sheltered
spot. The sprinkle was but the beginning of a smart shower that sent the
children scurrying to the house with their arms filled with a jumble of
patients and bedding. Gertie regarded them dumped in a heap on the
kitchen floor, ruefully.
"Minnie'll take an awful cold and die I just know, and my new pink silk
quilt got wet and the pink's run into the white!"
"I think it's horrid of it to rain just as we got everything fixed,"
added Katy.
"I wish we could stay out in it," said Chicken Little, staring out the
window at the rain falling ker-splash on the brick walk outside.
"Wouldn't it be fun!" Katy exclaimed enthusiastically. "See what big
drops--I most believe I could catch some in my hands. Oh, I wonder if
Mother would let us go out--I'm going to ask her."
Mrs. Halford meditated a moment over the request, then putting by her
sewing went to the window to take a look at the clouds.
It was growing darker with an occasional flash of lightning and an
accompanying growl of thunder off in the distance. Mrs. Halford turned
to the children with a twinkle of resolution in her eyes and astonished
them by saying:
"Yes, you may. Off with your shoes and stockings and put on your
gossamers. You may stay out in the rain just as long as you like. You
too, Chicken Little, I'll be responsible to your mother. You can take my
gossamer."
"Oh, Mother," Katy and Gertie both flung themselves at their little
mother for an ecstatic hug.
"Yes," she continued, as soon as they released her. "You may take those
old umbrellas in the woodhouse and go back under the gooseberry bushes
if you wish--I want you to be thoroughly satisfied, so you won't always
be teasing to go out in the wet."
"You don't need to think we'll get tired of it, Mother," Katy assured
her.
"My, I could stay out all day--I love it so," Chicken Little protested.
"We'll stay as long as you'll let us, Mumsey."
Mrs. Halford smiled.
Shoes and stockings came off in a jiffy and the children ran out jumping
up and down gleefully. They splashed about in the little puddles in the
old brick walk, and dabbled their bare toes in the wet grass. They
danced and squealed, catching the splashing drops in their hands and
flinging them in each other's faces until the water was dripping in
streams from noses and chins.
"Isn't it grand?"
"My, I never had so much fun in my life!"
"'Tisn't a bit cold."
They frisked and splashed till the novelty began to wear off a little,
then adopted Mrs. Halford's suggestion about going back to their
gooseberry playhouse.
The rain was coming down harder now and the roll of thunder and play of
lightning were more frequent. But the little girls were too much
absorbed with their own plans to notice this.
"I shall not take Minnie out in this rain--she would be sure to take a
nasty cold," said Gertie decidedly, heartlessly denying her child the
pleasures she was enjoying.
"Let's leave the dolls in the house--they'll get all messy--besides the
paint comes off if you get them a teeny bit wet."
"Let's play we're sailing in a boat--and the umbrellas can be the sails
and----"
"No, let's be Swiss Family Robinson in the tree house--we can just play
pull the ladder up after us."
They all agreed to this and started out to fit up their abode under
almost as discouraging circumstances as that famous family are supposed
to have faced. Taking two of the old umbrellas Katy propped them up to
reinforce their foliage roof over the driest spot she could find. She
worked quite a while before she could get them moored securely. It was
hard to manage with the rain driving in her face and the wind tugging at
the umbrellas.
"My, it'll be fine when we get it all fixed. See, it's hardly a bit wet
here----"
"Let's bring an old piece of carpet and spread down--and a book. We can
read here just as snug."
"Yes, and some cookies and apples--I'm getting hungry."
"All right--let's."
The children plodded back and forth under the remaining umbrellas
looking like a six-legged mushroom. They found it difficult to get the
carpet and provender safely placed without getting wet. And however
willing they were to be ducks themselves water didn't seem adapted to
carpets or cookies.
Mrs. Halford watched the trio busy and dripping and laughed till the
tears stood in her eyes. The Irish maid in the kitchen was scandalized
but interested.
"Did you ever see the likes of 'em? They're that wet, ma'am, they leave
puddles on me floor every time they come in and they be after stayin'
out there and 'atin,' ma'am! Now drinkin' would sure be aisier."
"Never mind, Maggie, it does seem foolish, but I want them to have their
fill of it."
"Fill--it's sloppin' over they are already. Howly Saints--hear that
thunder! They'll not be stayin' out long to that music I'm thinkin'."
Mrs. Halford smiled and settled down to her sewing 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
wish it wouldn't thunder so hard."
"Bet you are afraid, Jane Morton."
"I am not, Katy Halford. I never said a word about going in. I just said
I wished it wouldn't thunder so much--and I do."
A long reverberating roll gave point to her wish.
Gertie and Chicken Little both squirmed uneasily, but Katy caught her
breath and went on reading, scrooging up a little closer under the
umbrellas. The continuous drip from one of the umbrella points down on
her back was making her nervous, she said. She could feel a little damp
spot coming through her gossamer. Gertie drew her bare feet up under her
and cast longing looks toward the house. She was getting cold and the
drifting smoke from the kitchen chimney looked wondrously inviting. She
did wish Katy would stop reading. But Katy read on as steadily as the
rain pattered, rolling out the big words reckless of mistakes and
lifting her shrill little voice almost to a shriek when it thundered, as
if she defied the elements to do their worst.
"I don't think it's very intrusting," Gertie interrupted plaintively.
"Why, Gertie Halford, you said you just loved it last night."
Gertie could not deny the accusation. She didn't quite realize herself
how very different the story seemed when listened to from the depths of
a cushioned chair in a cozy, brightly lighted room and out here under
the dripping bushes, chilled and frightened. Even the old umbrellas were
getting soaked. Katy had to shift the precious book a time or two to
avoid the drip.
Gertie returned to the charge.
"I guess the Swiss family got awful tired of their tree house if it
rained like this. I am never going to play tree house again, Katy."
"'Fraid cat! 'fraid cat! I think it's lots of fun. Don't you, Jane?"
Chicken Little had begun to fuss about restlessly, shifting from one
cramped position to another. She did not answer Katy's question right
away.
"I guess it's most noon," she finally evaded diplomatically. "Mother
said I must be home by noon."
But Katy saw through this flimsy excuse.
"Oh, you're backing out! 'Tisn't anywhere near noon--you're just making
an excuse to go home. I bet you're 'fraid too."
"I'm not, Katy Halford, I'm not afraid the least speck and I can stay
here just as long as you can!" Chicken Little repelled this slur upon
her courage indignantly.
"Pooh, I'm going to stay here till the dinner bell rings," declared Katy
with a confidence she did not feel. She had been secretly hoping for
several minutes that her mother would call them in.
A blinding flash put a period to her sentence. There were three alarmed
"Ohs!" and three pairs of frightened eyes blinked an instant from the
glare.
Then Gertie picked herself up resolutely.
"I'm going straight in to Mother. I am 'fraid of lightning and I don't
care who knows it--and you don't like it any better than I do, Katy, but
you just think it's smart to pretend." And Gertie gathered her flapping
gossamer about her and scurried for the house.
Katy looked at Chicken Little and Chicken Little looked at Katy. They
were both longing to follow but neither would give in.
Suddenly another and then another dazzling flash blinded them. The
forked flames seemed launched straight at them and the deafening crash
that followed shook the very ground under their feet.
With a wild yell in unison, the children fled screaming to the house.
Mrs. Halford met them at the kitchen door white and worried. She had not
dreamed they would hold out so long.
The piece of carpet was left to a watery fate under the bushes. The book
dropped from Katy's nerveless fingers unnoticed and forgotten till the
next day, when Maggie picked it up limp and discolored near the kitchen
door.
It took Mrs. Halford a full hour to dry and comfort the terrified trio.
But once warmed and reassured Chicken Little and Katy promptly quarreled
as to who deserted first.
"I wouldn't have come if Chicken Little hadn't been so scared. Of
course, I didn't want to stay there all alone," Katy asserted blandly.
"It's no such thing, Katy Halford--I'm most sure you started first. It
was 'cause you yelled so I got so scared. My mother always says I'm real
brave about thunder."
"You did start first, Chicken Little Jane, and I just wish you could 'a'
heard yourself yell!"
"Girls," said Mrs. Halford with a twinkle in her eye, "stand up together
there."
The children wonderingly obeyed and she surveyed them both carefully.
"Do you know," she said reflectively, "I am sure it took you both to
make all the noise I heard--I wonder how you did it--it sounded like a
whole tribe of wild Indians. And if either of you beat the other to the
house, it was because she could run faster."
The little girls edged apart sheepishly. The subject was dropped. Mrs.
Halford was a quiet little woman who seldom scolded, but she had a way
with her that silenced even obstreperous Katy.
"Now if you want to know what I think," she continued, "I think Gertie
was the bravest one of the three."
"Why, Mumsey Halford--you know Gertie came in first of all." This was
more than Katy could stand.
"Exactly, that's why I think she was the bravest. She was brave enough
to stand being made fun of rather than be a foolish little girl and stay
out in the storm needlessly. Your courage and Jane's, too, was mostly
vanity, Katy dear. You wanted to show off--and each wanted to beat the
other. That is the kind of courage that gets people into trouble in this
world. The kind of courage I want my girls to have is the finer kind
that does some good. It is the kind of courage that makes men risk their
own lives to save people from drowning. Don't you remember, Katy, the
story I read you of the life-savers going out in the terrible storm to
get the people off a sinking ship? And you remember how thrilled you
were reading about the awful hardships of the patriots at Valley Forge?
Theirs was the courage to suffer for the sake of their country. Do you
suppose we would honor them today if they had half-starved themselves in
the snow that winter just for fun? And the courage which is not afraid
to refuse to do something wrong or silly, is just as necessary as the
courage to do. I guess Gertie is one ahead this time. Don't you think
so?"
The children were saved the pain of answering by the arrival of Ernest
with umbrella, water-proof, and rubbers for Chicken Little.
Mrs. Halford laughed merrily when she saw them.
"After all, children, I guess the joke is on me. I am afraid I didn't
have the courage to act at the proper time myself."