"Connie, darling, have they left you alone?" I said.
"Only for a few minutes, papa. I don't mind it."
"Don't be frightened at the storm, my dear. He who could walk on the sea of Galilee, and still the storm of that little pool, can rule the Atlantic just as well. Jeremiah says he 'divideth the sea when the waves thereof roar.'"
The same moment Dora came running into the room.
"Papa," she cried, "the spray—such a lot of it—came dashing on the windows in the dining-room. Will it break them?"
"I hope not, my dear. Just stay with Connie while I run down."
"O, papa! I do want to see."
"What do you want to see, Dora?"
"The storm, papa."
"It is as black as pitch. You can't see anything."