In almost an instant the Meadow-Brook Girls were soaked to the skin. They sprang up with cries of alarm. The night was very dark, except when a flash of lightning lighted up the deserted field that only a few hours before had been peopled with pleasure-lovers.
“Thave me!” cried little Tommy shrilly.
“What’s the matter? Oh, I’m getting wet,” groaned Margery.
“Nothing is the matter—not with us. It’s the tent that is in trouble. The wind has blown it over, that’s all,” answered Harriet calmly.
“Keep your blankets around you. You simply must not get wet,” commanded the guardian. “Oh, this is too bad—and on the night before the tournament,” she added under her breath with a little groan, unheard by her charges. For an hour they sat shivering, wet to the skin, unable to do a thing to help themselves until the wind and rain had ceased.
CHAPTER XXII
AN EXCITING MORNING
It was not an encouraging situation. Within a few hours the four girls were to enter upon the most momentous undertaking of their lives,—an undertaking that would require them to be in fit physical condition, with clear heads, alert and supple in limb. And here they sat in a blinding rainstorm with nothing more substantial than their blankets between them and the heavy downpour.
“There will be no game for you girls to-morrow,” groaned Margery Brown, dismally.
“If there is a game, we shall play,” answered Harriet.
“What shall we do?” cried Jane. “We’ll all catch cold!”