“Was there nice beddin'?”
“Yes.”
“I s'pose there was plenty of table-cloths an' such things? Have you bought any new furniture, Mis' Field?”
“No, I ain't,” said Mrs. Field. She moved her chair a little to make room for Lois and Amanda when they returned. Lois sat next her mother.
“I didn't know but you had. I thought mebbe the furniture was kind of old-fashioned. Have you—oh, ain't it awful?”
The storm had gathered itself like an animal for a fiercer onset. The room was lit up with a wild play of blue fire. The thunder crashed closely in its wake.
“Oh, we hadn't ought to talk of anything but the mercy of the Lord an' our sins!” wailed Mrs. Babcock. “Don't let's talk of anything else. That struck somewheres near. There's no knowin' where it'll come next. I never see such a shower. We don't have any like it in Green River. Oh, I hope we're all prepared!”
“That's the principal thing,” said Mrs. Green, in a solemn trembling voice.
Amanda said nothing. She thought of her will; a vision of the nicely ordered rooms she had left seemed to show out before her in the flare of the lightning; in spite of her terror it was a comfort to her.
“We'd ought to be thankful in a time like this that we ain't any of us got any great wickedness on our consciences,” said Mrs. Babcock. “It must be terrible for them that have, thinkin' they may die any minute when the next flash comes. I don't envy 'em.”