Polly went on with a smiling sigh. Benedicta was surely spoiling those children.
It was four o’clock when Polly heard the first mutterings of thunder. She had lain down for a few minutes, as was her custom at this hour, and she had fallen asleep. The thunder had probably wakened her. She arose and hastened downstairs; some of the children might be growing nervous.
In the ward nobody was stirring. Esther Tenniel had been playing with post-cards and had dropped back on her pillow. Jozy and Clementina and Grissel were drowsing in wheel-chairs. Muriel Spencer and Annette Lacouchière were looking at picture books. Little Duke and Dolly Merrifield were asleep on the veranda, with Mrs. Daybill keeping guard over all and deep in a book as well. The kitchen was empty of life except for a droning fly or two.
Outside a cooler breeze was ruffling everything within reach. The sky had changed. The sun was still shining with a weird brightness, making the heaped-up clouds in the northwest seem blacker in contrast. The rumbles of thunder grew into growls.
“We are going to have a shower,” said the White Nurse to Polly who stood scanning the sky.
Polly nodded. “Where’s Benedicta?”
“I saw her go over to the Study. The boys are asleep—or were when I left them half an hour ago.”
Jozy was awake, anxious-eyed.
“Is there going to be a thunder-shower?” she questioned tremulously.