“It’s blue sky overhead, anyway,” said Susan. “Let’s run.”
“It’s raining,” announced Phil, heavily burdened with slippers and pail. “I hear it on the leaves. I can’t run. Let’s sit down under a tree.”
“No, no!” exclaimed Susan, seizing his hand. “Come on! It’s blue sky overhead. I want to get home to Grandmother. I don’t like it in the woods in the rain. Come on! Do hurry—Run!”
The tiny patch of blue sky upon which Susan had pinned her faith had been rapidly growing smaller. Now it was altogether out of sight. There was a sharp flash of lightning, a loud clap of thunder, and down came the rain like the bursting of a waterspout.
“Oh, run, Philly, run!” called Susan, darting to the side of the road. “Come here with me under the trees.”
A flash of lightning and long roll of thunder came just at that moment, and put to flight all Phil’s small stock of courage. He was frightened and tired, and he could endure no more. He dropped his pail of precious berries to the ground, he let fall his slippers, and, standing in the downpour, he lifted up his voice and wept.
“Mamma, Mamma!” wailed Phil. “I want Mamma!”
Poor Susan was distracted. Her lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears, but she bravely ran out into the road again and caught Phil by the arm.
“Come, Philly, come,” entreated Susan.
But Phil, bewildered by the dazzling flashes of light and peals of thunder, was beside himself with fear. He jerked his arm away and ran screaming up the road, splashing through puddles as he went.