“I really think Miss Ella and Miss Louise should have had the roof mended before we came,” said Douglas.
“Well, tonight we can go to bed with our umbrellas up,” suggested Nan.
“Yes! An’ wake up a corp!” said Chloe dismally, as she handed the certainly not overdone biscuit. “It am sho’ death ter hist a umbrell in the house.”
Nan and Lucy were finally off, forlorn little figures with raincoats and rubbers and dripping umbrellas. Helen’s rubbers were a bit too small, much to that young lady’s satisfaction and to Lucy’s chagrin.
“My feet will slim down some as I grow older, the shoe man told me. I betcher when I am as old as you are my feet will be smaller,” said Lucy as she paddled off with the rubbers pulled on as far as she could get them.
The road was passable until they got within a hundred yards of the station and then they struck a soft stretch of red clay that was the consistency of molasses candy about to be pulled. Nan clambered up an embankment, balancing herself on a very precarious path that hung over the road, but Lucy kept to the middle of the pike.
“I hear the train!” cried Nan. “We must hurry!”
“Hurry, indeed! How can anyone hurry through fudge?” and poor Lucy gave a wail of agony. She was stuck and stuck fast.
“Come on!” begged Nan, but Lucy with an agonized countenance looked at her sister.
“I’m stuck!”