"Do let us in out of the rain," Jessie said faintly. She did not know but perhaps the hotel people would object to strangers coming inside. But Amy demanded:
"What do you think you have to say about it, Belle Ringold? Is this something more that you or your folks own? Do go along, Belle, and let us pass."
"Not much; you won't come in here!" declared Belle, setting herself squarely in their way. "No, you don't! That door's locked, anyway. It belongs to Mrs. Olliver's private suite—Mrs. Purdy Olliver, of New York. I am sure she won't want you bedrabbled objects hanging around her windows."
"Go around to the kitchen door," said Sally Moon, laughing. "That is where you look as though you belonged."
"Oh, that's good, Sally!" cried Belle. "Ex-act-ly! The kitchen door!"
At that moment another flash of lightning and burst of thunder made the two unpleasant girls from New Melford cringe and shriek aloud. They backed against the closed door Belle had mentioned as being the wealthy Mrs. Olliver's private entrance.
Amy and Nell screamed, too, and the three wet girls clung together for a moment. The rain came with a rush into the open porch, and if they could be more saturated than they were, this blast of rain would have done it.
"We have got to get under shelter!" shouted Jessie, and dragged her two friends farther into the veranda. Belle and Sally might have been mean enough to try to drive them back, but at this point somebody interfered.
A long window, like a door, opened and a lady looked out, shielding herself from the wind by holding the glass door.
"Girls! Girls!" she cried. "You will be drowned out there. Come right in."