* * * * *
The thunder was rumbling in good earnest when Howard Gray and Thomas came
clattering up with their last load of hay for the night, and the three
men pitched it hastily into place together, and hurried into the house.
Mrs. Gray was bustling about slamming windows, and the girls were
bringing in the red-cushioned hammocks and piazza, chairs, but the first
great drops began to fall before they had finished, and the wind, seldom
roused in the quiet valley, was blowing violently; Edith, stopping too
long for a last pillow and a precious book, was drenched to the skin in
an instant; the house was pitch dark before there was time to grope for
lights, but was almost immediately illumined by a brilliant flash of
lightning, followed by a loud report.
"My, but this storm is near! Usually, I don't mind 'em a bit, but, I
declare, this is a regular rip-snorter! Edith, bring me--"
But Mrs. Gray was interrupted by the elements, and for fifteen minutes
no one made any further effort to talk; the rain fell in sheets, the
wind gathered greater and greater force, the lightning became constant
and blinding, while each clap of thunder seemed nearer and more
terrific than the one before it, when finally a deafening roar brought
them all suddenly together, shouting frantically, "That certainly has
struck here!"
It was true; before they could even reach it, the great north barn was in
flames.
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