“Oh, I guess Flossie or Freddie moved one of the chairs when they crawled under the ironing board to make believe they were under a bridge,” the boy answered.
“I didn’t!” asserted Freddie. “It was the thunder!”
“Well, maybe it was,” admitted Bert. “It rumbled terribly loud, anyhow.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Nan suddenly.
“Oh! is it going to thunder again?” cried Flossie, getting ready to bury her head in Nan’s lap.
“No. But I think I heard daddy come in,” said the older Bobbsey girl.
“Yes, there he is!” cried Bert, and a moment later Mr. Bobbsey, his face sparkling with rain drops that had blown beneath his umbrella, entered the room.
“All safe and sound?” he asked cheerfully.
“Yes,” his wife answered. “But if you had been here a little while ago—”
“Why, what happened?”