“The little girl started to go in, and then paused. ‘Are you the Thunder?’ she asked.
“‘Why, of course,’ was the reply; ‘who else did you think it was?’
“‘I didn’t know,’ said the little girl. ‘I wanted to be certain about it.’
“‘Come in,’ said the Thunder. ‘It isn’t often I have company from the people below, and I’m glad you found me at home.’
The Thunder led the way down the hall and into a wide sitting-room, where a fire was burning brightly in the biggest fireplace the little girl had ever seen. A two-horse wagon could turn around in it without touching the andirons. A pair of tongs as tall as a man stood in one corner, and in the other corner was a shovel to match. A long pipe lay on the mantel.
“‘There’s no place for you to sit except on the floor,’ said the Thunder.
“‘I can sit on the bed,’ suggested the little girl.
“The Thunder laughed so loudly that the little girl had to close her ears again. ‘Why, that is no bed,’ the Thunder said when it could catch its breath; ‘that’s my footstool.’
“‘Well,’ said the little girl, ‘it’s big enough for a bed. It’s very soft and nice.’
“‘I find it very comfortable,’ said the Thunder, ‘especially when I get home after piloting a tornado through the country. It is tough work, as sure as you are born.’