"Silence!" he commanded again, as a hysterical sob made itself heard. "Almira Crosby, sit up and be quiet."
Almira's sobs ceased. Much as she feared the storm, she feared Mr. Fletcher more.
"It is impossible for you to stay here," he continued in a quiet way, as though in the exercise of his ordinary school duties. "The window cannot be repaired immediately, and the room is quite cold. You will therefore go quietly to the dining room, and take your seats there with as little confusion as possible. Miss Graves, Miss Spencer, Miss Mason, you seem to have your wits about you: please take charge of the little girls; Miss Faushane and Annette will attend to Miss Parker; Miss Gilbert will you have the kindness to go before and see that the lamps are lighted."
The confusion was quelled at once. Every one felt relieved at leaving the exposed school-room, while the coolness and promptitude displayed by Mr. Fletcher calmed the fears of the most timid. Lucy, Janet, and Delia, each took one or two of the little ones by the hand; Miss Parker roused herself by a brave effort, and all were soon quietly seated in the dining room, which was sheltered from the wind, and where the closed blinds kept out the glare of the lightning.
Mr. Fletcher was too wise to expect impossibilities. He had seen upon his first entrance into the school-room, that authority was absolutely needful, and he had used it accordingly. But he also saw that the girls' minds were in no condition for study, and he did not require it of them, while at the same time, he endeavored to divert them from their fears. He spoke of a thunder storm in winter as a thing unusual, indeed, but by no means unprecedented, and described two or three remarkable instances which he had witnessed in different parts of the globe. Then, in answer to some questions, he diverged to other incidents and scenes of his extensive travels, describing scenery and manners with that vividness which belonged to him, and which kept every one's attention entranced as long as he chose to speak.
After a time, seeing that the painful excitement had passed away, he returned again to the events of the evening. He uttered a mild reproof for the alarm, and the lack of presence of mind which had been manifested by the girls in general, "with some honorable exceptions," and recalled to their thoughts the fact that wind and storm fulfil the word of the Almighty, who is also the All-wise and the All-merciful, and to whom the night is as clear as the day. Even the giddiest of the girls felt ashamed of her terror as she listened.
And they were few who did not join heart and soul in the prayer which followed these remarks.
By bed-time, the minds of all were tranquilized and prepared for repose. The storm, too, had passed over, and the moon was shining as brightly as ever.
"You will hardly think of taking a walk to-night," said Emily to Delia, as they were undressing. Since the day of their memorable explanation, she had given up even the semblance of prayer, feeling it to be, as indeed it was, only a mockery of the Almighty.
"No, indeed," replied Delia, "nothing would tempt me to go."