“That was pretty near!” breathed Blue in a voice of awe.
“I hope it didn’t hur-rt anny wan,” responded Granny sympathetically.
Doodles lay very still, gripping his brother’s hand.
“Scared, old feller?” queried Blue, dropping back into his chair.
“A—little,” confessed Doodles. “It’s farther off now, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes! prob’ly that was the worst.”
The storm passed as quickly as it had come, and presently Blue ran upstairs to make ready for his trip down street. They heard him returning almost at once, clattering down with such speed that Granny hurried to meet him.
“It struck our kitchen!” he burst out. “The stove’s all over the room!”
“Ye don’t mane it! Th’ blissid saints be praised ’t th’ both o’ ye wasn’t there!” And Granny hobbled upstairs to see the lightning’s work.
Plainly the bolt had entered by way of the chimney, and, after demolishing the stove, and scattering and overturning various articles, had departed through the floor at the southwest corner of the room. Nothing but the stove appeared to be injured. That was unmendable.