Early in the afternoon of the third day of class Mr. Howard came blustering into the room, and told Father Byrne to dismiss the children at once.
"I reckon, Father," said he, "we're going to have a heavy rain! Better get the children off at once!"
"Why do you think it is going to rain before night?" inquired the priest, with some surprise, walking to the door and surveying the heavens.
"Rain before night!" repeated the farmer. "Your reverence, it will be pouring down in less than two hours. Just look at that sun drawing up water. I tell you, if he keeps that up much longer, he'll have enough rain up in the skies to drown the country." Here Mr. Howard pointed toward the west to the long amber streaks, each one of which in his mind was a mighty pump supplying the rain-clouds from the distant ocean.
"I'll leave the matter to your judgment," said the priest. "It would be well to follow the more prudent course."
"You see, we shouldn't have room for them to stay over night," was the farmer's answer. "So I'll get the horses, and I'll start them at once."
There was a general murmur of disapprobation in the room, for the children disliked to disband so soon.
"Owen! Here, Owen!" yelled the farmer, going to the corner of the yard and calling his son, who was grubbing around the apple-trees in the orchard. "Come and help me to get the horses ready for the children!"
"Wife," he continued, appearing at the kitchen door, "can you get the little things something to eat? I am going to send them home before it rains."
"Why, dear," replied Mrs. Howard, "it has not been an hour since they had their dinner. And what makes you think it is going to rain?"