“Here,” came the answer from just ahead. “Is that you, Jenkins?”
I did not reply until I reached her side.
“You are not hurt?” I asked.
“No, not at all. But who is it?”
“I am—er—your neighbor. Paine is my name.”
“Oh!” the tone was not enthusiastic. “Where is Jenkins?”
“He is attending to the horse. Pardon me, Miss Colton, but won't you take this umbrella?”
This seemed to strike her as a trifle absurd. “Why, thank you,” she said, “but I am afraid an umbrella would be useless in this storm. Is the horse all right?”
“Yes, though he is very much frightened. I—”
I was interrupted by another flash and terrific report from directly overhead. The young lady came closer to me.