"Oh, my hat, my hat," sobbed Matilda. "Oh, how it pours—and see the lightning, it flashes through the raindrops. Oh, let us get further under this hedge. My beautiful chapeau will be destroyed and it will be known that I left the grounds without leave."
"Come," said Margot, getting up in her quick and resolute way. "Never mind your chapeau, it is not safe to be under a hedge with thunder and lightning like this. Behold, the lightning may kill you—come, come!"
"Oh, but I cannot have my beautiful chapeau ruined," said Matilda.
"Never mind, I'll speak to grand'mère and perhaps we may contrive another," said Margot. "Come along at once or I must go alone. I don't mean to be killed for the sake of any chapeau."
"Don't leave me, don't leave me; that lightning frightens me!" said Matilda.
"I must leave you," said Margot, "unless you come with me. You don't want both your chapeau and yourself to die. Come, quick!"
Margot pulled her with a strong arm. Matilda found herself forced to come out into the centre of the road. They had half a mile to walk through the drenching rain. The poor little chapeau became like a sponge; both girls were wet to the skin, for the torrents of rain continued and the lightning still played, played brilliantly, unceasingly, and the thunder roared with mighty force. At last they got to the gates of the Château St. Juste, and Margot led her dripping companion into the well-kept hall. Both grandpère and grand'mère were waiting in the hall for their little Margot.
She went swiftly up to them.
"Mon grandpère must not touch me," she said, "for I am a pool of water. I met Matilda Raynes—she belongs to the school of la Princesse. May we go upstairs, grand'mère, and take off our dripping things, and when the storm gets less may a message be sent to la Princesse, and may I lend Matilda some of my clothes, grand'mère, until hers are dry? Ah, tiens, le chapeau, it is pulp!" She kicked the offending hat with her foot.
A few minutes later, both little girls were lying warm and snug in Margot's bed. Margot told Matilda that she was nothing but a bébé, but that if she stopped crying she would try to get her another chapeau.