THE WORST STORM EVER!
Patty's gay words added the final spur to Farnsworth's enthusiasm, and
with a whoop of glee, he darted ahead faster than ever. Though his
manner and appearance gave the effect of recklessness, Big Bill knew
quite well what he was doing. He was a magnificent driver, and however
seemingly careless he might be, his whole mind was alert and intent on
his work. The road, hard and white, glistened in the moonlight.
Straight and clear, it seemed truly to lead directly into the great
yellow disk, now dropped almost low enough to touch it.
"Whoopee!" shouted Bill. "This is some going! Sit tight, Daisy, and
hold on for all you're worth! Are you people in the back hall all
right?"
"Right we are!" returned Jack. "Are you going straight THROUGH the
moon?"
"Yep! If we catch her in time! Hallo, she's touched the earth!"
It was a great game. The road was so level and so free of obstruction
that they kept the centre, and seemed to be shooting, at whistling
speed, into that enormous yellow circle.
But, already, the horizon was swallowing up their goal. The laughing
quartette saw the circle of gold become a semi-circle, then a mere arc,
and soon only a glimpse of yellow remained, which immediately vanished,
and save for a faint reminiscent glow, the western sky was dark.
"Where are your stars?" queried Farnsworth, gazing upward. "Nice
country, this! No stars, no moon, no nothin'!"
"The lamps give enough light," cried Daisy. "Don't slow down, Bill! Go
on, this flying is grand!"
"Come on in,--the flying's fine!" laughed Bill, and again they went at
highest speed.
But with the setting of the moon, Patty's spirit of adventure calmed
down.
"Oh, do let's turn back," she begged. "He doesn't hear me,--make him
hear, Jack."
"I say, Farnsworth," and Jack tapped the burly shoulder in front of
him, "we've gone far enough. Back to the old home, eh?"
"Back it is!" and the driver slowed down, and picking a wide, clear
space, deftly turned the machine around. But at sight of the eastern
sky, every one exclaimed in dismay.
Though the moon had set clearly, and the west was a dull grey, the
eastern sky was black. Turbulent masses of clouds climbed, rolling, to
the zenith; faint lights appeared now and then, and a dim rumble of
distant thunder was heard at intervals.
"Shower coming up," said Farnsworth, blithely; "better streak for home.
Wish I'd turned sooner. But we'll beat the storm. Wish the girls had
some wraps. Here, Daisy, take my coat and put it on while you've a
chance. It'll look pretty silly on you, but it will keep your furbelows
from getting spoiled."
"Yes, I will take it, Billy. I'm awfully chilly."
As Daisy already had a laprobe, Patty looked at her in astonishment, as
she let Farnsworth take off his coat and put it on her. An ordinary
evening coat, it was not a great protection, but Daisy turned up the
collar and made herself as comfortable as she could. Then she tucked
the laprobe carefully over her skirts, though as yet no drop of rain
had descended.
"No, indeed!" said Patty, as Jack offered her his coat. "I have the
laprobe, you know, and I'll put it round my shoulders. Never mind if my
skirts are spoilt. Turn up your collar, Jack, it will pour in a minute
now."
And pour it did! Suddenly, without a preliminary sprinkle, the floods
dropped straight from the heavens. A drenching, pouring rain that
soaked the occupants of the open car before they could realise what had
happened. Gusts of wind added to their discomfort, and then the thunder
and lightning, drawn nearer, gave the greatest exhibition of an
electrical storm that had been seen all summer.
Patty, who was confessedly afraid of thunder storms, shivered, on the
verge of nervous hysterics. Finally, at a specially ear-splitting bolt
and blinding flash, which were almost simultaneous, she gave a little
shriek and pulled the wet laprobe over her head. She crumpled down into
a little heap, and, frightened lest she should faint, Pennington put
his arm round her and held her in a reassuring clasp.
Daisy Dow was more angry than frightened. She hadn't Patty's fear of
the elements, but she greatly objected to the uncomfortable situation
in which she found herself.
"Do get home, Bill!" she cried, crossly. "Can't you go any faster?"
The big fellow, in his white shirtsleeves, bent to his wheel. He had
worn no hat, and the rain fairly rebounded as it dashed on his thick
mat of soaking wet hair.
"Speed her, Bill," went on Daisy, petulantly; "you could go fast enough
in the moonlight,--why do you slow down now, when we all want to get
home?"
No answer from Farnsworth, who was intently looking and listening.
"Why DO you, Bill?" reiterated the irritating voice, and Farnsworth's
never very patient temper gave way.
"Shut up, Daisy!" he cried. "I'm doing the best I can,--but that's all
the good it does. We've got to stop. The gasolene is out!"
All of them, accustomed to motors, knew what this meant. Like a flash,
each mind flew back to think who was to blame for this. And each
realised that it was not the fault of the chauffeur at "Red Chimneys"
who had let them take out the car. For, had they not said they were
going only for a short spin? And the car had been amply stocked for
about two hours. Yes, it must be about two hours since they started,
for in their merry mood they had had no thought of time, and had gone
far, far inland.
"We can't stop," shrieked Daisy, "in this storm! No house or shelter
near! Bill Farnsworth, I'll NEVER forgive you for bringing me into this
pickle!"
Farnsworth gave a short, sharp laugh.
"I can get along without your forgiveness, Daisy, if I can only get you
people home safely. Great Cats, how it rains! I say, Pennington, what
do you think we'd better do? Where's Miss Fairfield?"
Looking around suddenly, Bill saw no sign of Patty in the nondescript
heap by Jack's side. But at his startled question, a wet face and a
mass of tangled curls and apple blossoms, equally wet, emerged from the
soaking laprobe.
"Here I am!" said a plaintive little voice that tried hard to be brave.
But a sharp flare of lightning sent the golden head suddenly back to
its hiding-place.
"Miss Fairfield is awfully afraid of electrical storms," explained
Jack, patting the wet heap anywhere, in a well-meant attempt at
reassurance.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Daisy. "What a 'fraid-cat! I'm not frightened,--but
I'm terribly wet. I'm soaked! I'm drowned!"
"So are we all, Daisy," said Bill, shivering as the wind flapped his
dripping shirtsleeves; "but what CAN we do? The car won't move."
"Well, WE can move! Let's get out and walk."
"Why, Daisy, what's the use? Where could we walk to?"
"Well, I think you two men are horrid! You just sit there and let Patty
and me catch our death of cold. Though Patty is wrapped up snug and
warm in that robe. If SHE'S protected you don't care about ME!"
"Daisy! what nonsense---" began Bill, but Patty's head popped out again.
"If you think I'm snug and warm, Daisy Dow, you're greatly mistaken! I
NEVER was so uncomfortable in all my life! And I'm scared besides!
That's more than you are!"
Jack Pennington laughed. "While the girls are comparing notes of
discomfort," he said, "how about us, Bill? Do you
feel,-er--well-groomed and all that?"
Farnsworth looked critically at his soaked apparel. "I've been DRIER,"
he replied, "but you know, Pennington, I'm one of those chaps who look
well in any costume!"
The absurdity of this speech brought Patty's head out again, and she
felt a shock of surprise to note that the jesting words were true. Bill
Farnsworth, coatless, dripping wet, and exceedingly uncomfortable, sat
upright, tossing back his clustered wet hair, and positively laughing
at the situation.
"Pardon my hilarity," he said, as he caught a glimpse of Patty's face,
"but you're all so lugubrious, somebody MUST laugh."
"All right, I'll laugh with you!" and Patty sat upright, the dark
laprobe held hoodwise, so that she looked like a mischievous nun. "If
you'll please turn off the thunder and lightning, I won't mind the rain
a bit. In fact, I'm getting used to it. I know I was meant for a duck,
anyway."
"Well, Duck, the thunder and lightning are getting farther away," said
Bill, truly, "but I do believe it rains harder than ever! What CAN we
do?"
"Can't we get under the car?" suggested Daisy.
"Not very well; and it wouldn't help much. It's rather wet, even under
there," and Bill looked at the soaked road.
"We passed a house about a mile back," said Patty, "couldn't we walk
back to that?"
"I thought of that," said Bill, "but I didn't suppose you girls could
walk it,--with those foolish step-ladder heels you're wearing. And
white satin slippers aren't real good style for mud-wading. I could
carry you, Miss Fairfield,--you're only a will-o'-the-wisp; but Daisy
here is a heavyweight."
"Oh, no matter about me," said Daisy, spitefully; "just see that Miss
Fairfield is looked after!"
Big Bill Farnsworth looked at the speaker. "Daisy Dow," he said,
quietly, "don't you get me any more riled than I am! If you do, I won't
be pleasant!"
"But I can walk," put in Patty, anxious to prevent a quarrel. "I
haven't on walking boots exactly, but I can flounder along somehow. And
we MUST get to shelter! Help me along, Jack, and I'll try not to mind
the thunder and lightning."
"Plucky little girl!" said Farnsworth, and Daisy scowled in the
darkness.
"What time is it?" asked Patty, who was now thoroughly ready to face
the situation.
"Just twelve o'clock," replied Jack, after several futile attempts to
light a match and see his watch.
"Then we MUST try to get to that house," declared Patty. "I had no idea
it was so late. Come, people, no matter what the result, we must TRY to
reach shelter and civilisation."
"Right!" said Pennington. "It's the only thing to do. I remember the
house. There was no light in it, though."
"No; it's so late. But we can ring up the family, and they'll surely
take us in for the night."
"Not if they see us first!" exclaimed Bill. "Oh, Miss Fairfield, you
look like Ophelia with those flowers tumbling all over your face!"
Patty laughed, and removing the apple-blossom wreath from her head, was
about to throw it away. But she felt it gently taken from her hand in
the darkness, and she somehow divined that Farnsworth had put it in his
pocket.
The combination of this sentimental act with the drenched condition of
the flower wreath--and, presumably, the pocket, was too much for Patty,
and she giggled outright.
"What ARE you laughing at?" snapped Daisy. "_I_ don't see anything
funny in this whole performance."
"Oh, DO think it's funny, Daisy," implored Patty, still laughing. "Oh,
DO! for it ISN'T funny at all, unless we MAKE it so by thinking it IS
so!"
"Stop talking nonsense," Daisy flung back. "Oh, I've sprained my ankle.
I can't walk at all! Oh, oh!"
Farnsworth looked at her. "Daisy," he said, sternly, "if you've really
sprained your ankle, we'll have to get back into the car--for I can't
carry you. But if you CAN walk, I advise you to do so."
Daisy looked a little frightened at his severe tone.
"Oh, I suppose I CAN walk," she said, "though it hurts me dreadfully.
Hold me up, Bill."
"I'll hold you," he replied, cheerily. "Now we'll take this lantern,
and we'll walk ahead. Pennington, you follow with Miss Fairfield. Don't
talk much, you'll need all your strength to walk through the storm.
It's abating a little, but it's raining cats and dogs yet."
Unconsciously, Bill had assumed command of the expedition, and
involuntarily, the others obeyed him. That mile was a dreadful walk! At
first, it seemed fairly easy, for the road was a good one, though wet
and slippery. But soon the satin slippers were soaked; stones and bits
of gravel made their way inside, and at last Patty found it almost
impossible to keep hers on at all. Jack tried to help, by tying the
little slippers on with his own and Patty's handkerchiefs, but these
soon gave way. The rain fell steadily now; not in dashes and sheets,
but a moderate downpour that seemed as if it meant to go on forever.
Jack could do little to help, save to grasp Patty's arm tightly and
"boost" her along. Daisy stood it better, for she was of far stronger
build than fragile Patty, and Big Bill almost carried her along with
his own long, sturdy strides.
After what seemed an interminable walk, they reached the house in
question. It was a large, fine-looking structure, but as no lights were
visible, the family had evidently retired.
"I should think they'd leave a night light in the hall," grumbled
Daisy, as the quartette climbed the veranda steps and stood, dripping,
at the front door.
"Whew!" exclaimed Jack. "It's good to get where that rain doesn't drive
straight into your eyes, anyway! Ring the bell, Farnsworth."
"Can't find it. Ah, here it is!" and Bill pushed the electric button,
and held it, ringing a continuous peal.
But no one came to the door, and the shivering four grew impatient, to
think that shelter was so near, yet unavailable.
"You keep punching this bell, Pennington," suggested Bill, "and I'll
reconnoitre round to the other entrances. There must be side doors and
things."
Jack kept the bell going, but no one responded, and no lights showed in
the house. At last Bill returned from his tour of exploration.
"I've been all the way round," he said; "there are three or four
entrances to this mansion, and all have bells, but nobody answered my
various and insistent ringings. WHAT shall us do now, poor things?"
"I suppose they're afraid we're burglars," observed Patty; "and they're
afraid to let us in."
"If they don't come pretty soon, I WILL be a burglar," declared Bill,
"and I'll get in in burglar fashion. It isn't fair for people to have a
warm, dry house, and keep forlorn wet people out of it. We've GOT to
get in! Let's bang on the doors."
But no amount of banging and pounding, no shaking of door knobs, no
whistling or shouting served to bring response.
"Throw pebbles at the window," Patty suggested, and immediately a young
hailstorm bombarded the second-story panes.
"No good!" commented Bill. "So here goes!" and without further warning
his large and well-aimed foot crashed through a long front window which
reached down to the floor.
"Oh, my gracious!" exclaimed Patty. "WHAT a thing to do!"
"The only way is the best way," returned Bill, gaily. "Now, wait a
minute, you girls, I'll let you in."
Carefully looking out for the broken glass, Big Bill inserted his hand,
sprung back the catch, and opened the window.
"Don't come in this way," he cautioned, "I'll open the front door."
Farnsworth found himself in a large, pleasant room, evidently a
drawing-room. But without pausing to look around, he made for the hall,
and tried to open the great front doors.
"Can't do it," he called to those outside. "I'll open another window."
In a moment, he had thrown up the sash of another long, low window, in
a room the other side of the hall, and invited his friends in.
"Couldn't let you girls walk in on that broken glass," he explained.
"Come in this way, and make yourselves at home."
"We're too wet,--we'll spoil things," said Patty, hesitating at the
long lace curtains and fine floors and rugs.
"Nonsense! Come on! Where DO you suppose the electric light key is?
Whoo! here we have it!"
A flood of light filled the room, and the girls saw they were in a
comfortable, pleasant library or sitting-room, evidently the home of
cultured, refined people.