“Of course! But why did I faint? I never did such a thing before in my life.”
“That flash was close to us. It struck the big willow by the brook.”
“Did it! As near as that?”
“Yes. Don't try to talk.”
“But I am all right . . . I am not hurt at all. Are we almost home?”
“Yes. Those are the lights of your house ahead there.”
We moved on more rapidly. As we turned in at the Colton walk she said, “Why; it has stopped raining.”
It had, though I had not noticed it. The flash which smashed the willow had been the accompaniment of what Lute would call the “clearing-up shower.” The storm was really over.
We stepped up on the portico of the big house and I rang the bell. The butler opened the door. His face, as he saw the pair of dripping, bedraggled outcasts before him, was worth looking at. He was shocked out of his dignity.
“Why! Why, Miss Mabel!” he stammered, with almost human agitation. “What—”