What an evening that was! It had only rained when Pecy came, but soon the rain turned to hail, which the wind drove rattling against the windows. It was a wild storm, and they had sent the poor child forth, perhaps to perish in it, simply because she was disagreeable and wanted to borry “an ambril to keep the milk dry.” Probably she had never held an “ambril” in her life, and could not resist the temptation to ask for one when the opportunity offered.
Preston went to the door and called to her, but she had run like a deer, and was already out of sight and hearing.
“It is too bad,” said Lucy, “just look at those hailstones as big as robins’ eggs! Did that child have anything on her head?”
“Yes,” replied Mary, pacing the floor excitedly, “an old sunbonnet. But the hailstones will strike right through it. Don’t hailstones ever kill people?”
“Oh, don’t worry! It didn’t hail when we sent her out, or we wouldn’t have done it, of course. But she’s as tough as a pine-knot; ’twould take more than hailstones to kill her,” said Preston; and then he whistled to keep his courage up.
“Girls, if there’s an ‘ambril,’ let’s have it. I’m going to the ‘paster,’ wherever it is, to find her.”
And go he would and did, in spite of all remonstrances. He was gone a long while, and when he returned, the sky was clear again.
“Yes, I found her. She’s all right. She had a quantity of ice-cream in her ‘milk-bucket’ to take home.”