“Aunt is angry, but can’t answer—every clap of thunder makes her scream. Sarah Matilda has lost her shoe, and the water has closed over it, and she can’t find it. ‘Pistol, where is your corkscrew? draw it out.’
“‘It’s all your fault,’ sais the sleeping partner to the head of the firm, ‘I told you to bring the umbrellas.’
“‘It’s all yours,’ retorts the afflicted husband, ‘I told you these things were all nonsense, and more trouble than they were worth.’
“‘It’s all Hen’s fault,’ said Di, ‘for we came on purpose to bring her out; she has never been at a pic-nic before, and it’s holidays now. Oh! the brook has risen, and the planks are gone, we shall have to wade; Hen, ask those men to go before, I don’t like them to see above my ancles.’
“‘Catch me at a pic-nic again,’ said the terrified spinster.
“‘You had better get home from this first, before you talk of another,’ sais Di.
“‘Oh, Di, Di,’ said Henrietta, ‘how can you act so?’
“‘You may say Di, Di, if you please, dear,’ said the tormentor; ‘but I never say die—and never will while there is life in me. Letty, will you go to the ball to-night? we shall catch cold if we don’t; for we have two miles more of the rain to endure in the open carriages before we reach the steamer, and we shall be chilled when we cease walking.’
“But Letty can do nothing but cry, as if she wasn’t wet enough already.
“‘Good gracious!’ sais the head of the house, ‘the horses have overturned the carriage, broke the pole, and run away.’