"Yes, the young man said so."
"But do you believe him?"
"I don't know why not. I wouldn't believe Mr. Kimball because he's always fixing up his stories to sound better than they really are, which makes me have very little faith in him; but Judge Fitch says he'd make a splendid witness for any one just on that very account. Judge Fitch says with a little well-advised help Mr. Kimball would carry convictions to any man,—he don't except none,—but I see no reason why the young man wasn't telling the truth. Young men do tell the truth sometimes; most everybody does that. A tornado catches up pigs and carries 'em miles and pulls up trees by the roots. I don't wonder they won't insure 'em."
"The pigs?" asked Mrs. Macy.
"No, the tornadoes."
"What's the signs of a tornado?" asked Gran'ma Mullins uneasily.
"Well, the signs is alike for both. The signs is weather like to-day and a kind of breathlessness like to-night. Mr. Kimball says a funnel-shaped cloud is a great sign; and when you see it, in three minutes it's on you, and off goes your roof if it's a cyclone, and off you go yourself if it's a tornado."
"My heavens alive!" cried Mrs. Lathrop, clutching the arms of her old-gold-plush stationary rocker.
"Do people ever come down again?" Gran'ma Mullins inquired; she was very pale.
"Elijah didn't, Mr. Kimball says."