"Well, it was struck by lightning before I got back—"
"Really—?" Judy was facing him now, breathless with interest.
"Really, Judy." His face was very grave.
"Oh, oh," she wailed, softly, "oh, and I might have been there—"
"Yes."
She shivered and sat up. Her wet hair, half braided, trailed its dark length over her shoulder. Her eyes were big, and her face was white.
"What a baby I was," she said, nervously, "what a baby, Launcelot—not to see the danger—"
"You trust to your Uncle Launcelot, next time, little girl, and don't get fussy," was the big boy's way of stopping her thanks.
"I will," she promised, and the smile she gave him meant more than the words.
"It has stopped raining," said Anne from the door.