"I s'pose we have—some time or other," Rose admitted.
"No, we haven't," interposed Russ, who was of an inventive mind. "There are always new plays to make up."
"Just like making up riddles," agreed Laddie. "I guess I could make up a riddle about this old storm—if only the thunder wouldn't make so much noise. I can't think riddles when it thunders."
The thunder seemed to shake the house. The rain dashed against the windows harder than ever. And there were places in the roof of this attic where the water began to trickle through and drop upon the floor.
"Oh!" cried Mun Bun, on whose head a drop fell. "It's leaking! I don't like a leaky house. Let's go home, Rose."
"Do you want to go home to Pineville, Mun Bun?" shouted Russ, for he could not make his voice heard by the others just then without shouting.
"Well, no. But I'd rather be at that other house where mother is—and daddy," proclaimed the smallest boy when the noise of the thunder had again passed.
"I tell you," said Russ soberly, "we'd better go downstairs and play something till the thunder stops."
"What shall we play?" asked Vi again.
"I'll build an automobile and take you all to ride," said the oldest boy confidently.