Down came another cartload on the roof, only this time it didn’t sound like mere rocks, but like metal rails.
“Ow!” squeaked Caroline. “Do you think that hit anything? Of course I’m not frightened, but Mildred is downright hectic.”
Cousin Penelope rose and pulled down the blinds, and drew the chintz curtains across the windows. The fearsome glare of the lightning was shut out, but the thunder still thumped and thudded overhead. Caroline was glad that when Cousin Penelope sat down again, she drew the chair quite close to the bedside.
“It’s very comforting to have you here, Cousin Penelope,” she murmured.
“We’re company for each other, Jacqueline. Now lie down and go to sleep again. I won’t leave you till the storm is over.”
So Caroline nestled down in her bed and closed her eyes, and thought of her party. She opened her eyes again, as the thunder crashed angrily, and saw Cousin Penelope sitting in the soft lamplight, so different from Cousin Penelope by day.
“I like you with your hair down, Cousin Penelope,” Caroline said sleepily. “I wish you wore it always that way. You are so pretty with your hair down.”
Cousin Penelope actually flushed, cheek and throat, but she wasn’t angry, for her eyes were smiling.
Then Caroline shifted Mildred in her arms, and closed her eyes once more. Presently she realized that there had been silence for a space that was long enough to be felt—silence except for the roar of rain upon the roof, and that was nothing to the anvil clang of the thunder that for so long had deafened them.
“Mildred is going to sleep,” said Caroline, without opening her eyes. “She thinks the storm is most over.”