“I hope our windmill is all right,” Hanny said anxiously. “It may have blown down.”
The car rolled over a rise, and the children were reassured to see the huge canvas-arms revolving at a furious rate.
“It’s still there,” Vevi said, greatly relieved.
“But see how fast the arms are turning,” Hanny declared. “The tulip fields will be flooded!”
At the gate to Windmill Farm, the driver stopped the car to let the children off.
“Will you be all right now?” he asked. “Or do you want me to come with you?”
“I can turn off the windmill myself,” Hanny said.
She and Vevi thanked the driver and his wife for the ride and ran through the gate.
The windmill was groaning and straining under the assault of the elements. At any moment, Vevi expected to see the canvas-covered arms ripped to shreds.
Around and around went the fan-shaped sails, pumping water at a fearful rate. The irrigation ditches were flooded and Hanny could see that some of the tulip fields were soaked.