Chapter 15

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."