“Let’s light the torches, somebody,” cried Betty. “And when we’ve found the matches we can light some candles, too. In about two minutes we’ll be as cozy as bugs in a rug.”
It was impossible to withstand Betty’s optimism, and in a short time, with the aid of plentiful candle light, they were not only feeling more resigned about the storm but were even beginning to enjoy the novelty of it.
“Rain cease, tent be water-tight,” chanted Grace, raising her eyes aloft. “Be water-tight, tent——”
“You needn’t be so prayerful about it,” chuckled Betty. “Do you suppose the boys would have lent it to us, if it hadn’t been water-tight?”
“I’m just putting in my plea for good measure,” explained Grace. “Whew, I never did hear such a storm.”
“It’s awful,” agreed Mollie, rising restlessly and walking over to the flap of the tent. She stood there a moment, then, shaking her head as though satisfied, returned to her seat.
A few minutes later, however, she repeated the action, standing so long by the tent flap this time that Betty was moved to comment.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, adding flippantly: “If you’re waiting for the boys you’re wasting your time. They’re not due till to-morrow, you know.”
Instead of answering, Mollie made an imperative little gesture with her hand. Startled, Betty joined her silently and was still further alarmed to find that Mollie was trembling.
“There’s somebody out there, Betty,” she said, in a stage whisper. “Are you game to—lift—the flap——”