Nothing more was heard from Grace for the time being. She had dropped to sleep again. Fortunately none of the others had been awakened by the racket, but Harriet’s heart was beating rapidly. She leaned over the edge of the mow. What the next flash of lightning revealed relieved her anxiety somewhat. She saw the man get up and rub his back. She saw, too, that he had fallen on a heap of hay, the latter undoubtedly having saved him from severe injury. A moment later he limped across the floor and began climbing up the ladder on the other side of the barn.
“Thank goodness!” muttered Harriet. “I hope no more of them come in here to-night. I shall scream if they do. I know I shall.”
The man threw himself, grumbling, on the hay; silence once more settled over the barn so far as the occupants were concerned. The thunder was now growing louder, the lightning flashes became more frequent. Harriet, however, felt no particular alarm. She was unafraid of thunder storms, and gave no thought to the fact that barns are more frequently struck by lightning than are dwelling houses.
By this time her companions had begun to stir restlessly. Miss Elting sat up.
“Harriet, is that you?” she asked in a low tone.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just looking about a little,” replied Harriet in a whisper, not deeming it advisable to alarm the guardian by telling her what she had just discovered.
“How long has it been storming?” asked the guardian.
“Only a little while. I do not believe it is going to amount to anything. I hope this old barn doesn’t leak.”