“What next?” stormed the old gentleman, foaming with rage. “What next, I should like to know? How dare you get into our car? How dare you, madam? What are we coming to? A pretty state of affairs when a man can’t go for a ride in his own car without being molested by impertinent strangers! Scandalous, scandalous! I shall report it to the police.”
The farmer’s wife had by this time managed to get out of the car, but she was so bewildered that she was still unable to speak, and long after the angry gentleman had driven off with his wife and his dog, she stood silent and motionless in the middle of the road with the umbrella in her hand, wide open, and with her mouth wide open too. Her daughter, who came hurrying up, was also very much astonished.
“What on earth made you do that, mother?” she said. “I couldn’t believe my own eyes.”
But her mother could only shake her head. She couldn’t make it out at all. Never, never had such an extraordinary thing befallen her.
“I am afraid I can’t be very well,” she said at last. “I think I’ll go and see the doctor to-morrow.” So the next day she went to see the doctor. It was rather showery and she took the umbrella again, for she had never thought of connecting it with the strange things which had occurred. The doctor felt her pulse and looked at her tongue.
“You’ve got a touch of Thingumabobitis,” he said. “You must be very careful. I’ll write you a few prescriptions. You must take a pill every three hours, and a pink powder every two hours, and a blue powder half an hour before every meal, and you must never on any account let your nose get cold. It’s not dangerous so long as you are careful. Come again next week.”
By this time the sun had come out, and as she was much taken up with wondering how she was going to keep her nose warm, the farmer’s wife forgot all about the umbrella. Next day, when she went to fetch it, it was gone. I don’t know what happened to it, nor who has it now. But let me give you a word of warning. If you come across a stray umbrella, pray be careful not to do any counting while you have it open in your hand. It wouldn’t be very pleasant to find yourself suddenly hanging from the top of the nearest church steeple, now would it?