“Look!” Helen dragged her to the window. “At the next flash—the fence beyond the meadow——”
“What was it? What was it like?” The lightning flashed incessantly. Helen tried to point; her hand only jerked from side to side.
“Look!” she cried.
“I see nothing but the lightning,” Minnie answered, breathlessly.
“Oh, the fence! The fence—and in the field!”
“Helen! What was it like?”
“Ah-ah!” she panted, “a long line of white—horrible white——”
“What like?” Minnie turned from the window and caught the other's wrist in a fluttering clasp.
“Minnie, Minnie! Like long white gowns and cowls crossing the fence.” Helen released her wrist, and put both hands on Minnie's cheeks, forcing her around to face the pane. “You must look—you must look,” she cried.
“They wouldn't do it, they wouldn't—it isn't!” Minnie cried. “They couldn't come in the storm. They wouldn't do it in the pouring rain!”