The farmer gave a great guffaw. “Come, come, mother,” he said, “you must have been dreaming. There’s been no sun to-day, neither in town nor country.”
“Well, maybe it was the damp that got into my head,” said his wife. “I think I’ll go to bed and have a basin of hot gruel.” So she went to bed and had the hot gruel, and by the next morning she had almost forgotten all about her queer adventure.
Nothing more happened for some time. The weather was warm and sunny, and the umbrella stood unused in the corner of the kitchen.
But one day the farmer’s wife decided to go and see her daughter, who was married and lived in a village a few miles away. It was a very hot day and she thought it would be a good plan to take the umbrella with her to shade her from the sun.
After dinner she and her daughter went for a walk upon a neighbouring common, and when they had gone a little way they sat down for a rest on a warm dry bit of grass by the side of the road that ran across the heath, for they were hot and rather tired.
“What a lot of motor-cars there are on this road, to be sure,” said the farmer’s wife, who held the open umbrella over her head. “One, two, three, four, five.... I wish I was in one of them.” No sooner had she uttered these words than she found herself plumped right into the middle of the nearest car, in which were sitting an old lady and gentleman and a fat spaniel, all fast asleep.
You can imagine what a scene there was. The dog barked, the old lady and gentleman were furious.
“Stop, stop,” they cried to the chauffeur, who was driving on quite calmly and taking no notice at all of the noise going on behind him.
As for the farmer’s wife, she was so astonished that she could not say anything at all.