Mr. Houseman leaned forward and whispered solemnly:
“There was a tempest in a teapot.”
This frightened her.
“Do you think there’s going to be another one?” she whispered back.
“Sure to be!” said he. “Don’t you see how dark it’s getting?”
It was getting very dark. Lexy couldn’t see his face now.
“Hold my hand!” he shouted, and she reached out for it; but she couldn’t find him at all.
“Mr. Houseman!” she cried.
There was no answer. She stared about her, numb with terror. What was it that rustled like that? What were these black, tall things that were standing motionless about her on every side?
“I’ve been dreaming,” she said to herself. “I’m in my own room, of course. If I go just a few steps, I’ll touch the wall. I’m awake now—only it’s so dark!”