“Patsy Dolan and his four-year-old sister Shock (probably so-called in reference to the usual state of her hair) were Boston children, who had been sent into the country for a week by the Missionary Society. Patsy himself was only nine, and knew nothing of the world outside of his native city. As he stepped out of the back door of the old house, leading his little sister, he instinctively glanced over his shoulder. Then he laughed a little at himself.
“‘No p’leecemen here!’ he said aloud, with a chuckle. ‘A feller can kape onto the grass all he wants.’
“It was very slow walking, for Shock was not an accomplished pedestrian, even on brick sidewalks; and here the ground was very uneven. Besides, it must be confessed that her temper was rather uncertain, and on this particular hot afternoon she constantly required soothing. But Patsy cared little for this. He had been used to taking care of his baby sister almost ever since she was born, and he patiently submitted to her whims, now stopping to disentangle her little bare feet from briery vines, now lifting her in his arms and bearing her over an unusually rough spot. So they went on, across the field, over a tiny brook, through a narrow belt of woods, and out upon an open pasture, which bulged up here and there like a great quilt, with patches of moss and grass, and with round juniper bushes for buttons. At least, this was the image that vaguely suggested itself to Patsy as he tugged his hot little burden along farther and farther away from home.
“Suddenly he stopped and looked up.
“‘Sure, it’s comin’ on night,’ said he. ‘The sun’s gone entirely, it is. We must be goin’ back.’
“But Shock had reached the limit of feminine endurance, and declined, with all the firmness of her nature, this unexpected move. She objected to that extent that she sat down hard on the ground, and wailed with heat and weariness.
“Patsy was a little nonplussed, for it was growing very dark. He was acquainted with Shock’s resources of resistance, and hesitated to call them forth. While he deliberated he winked and winced at the same moment; a broad drop of water had struck full upon his upturned face.
“‘Come out o’ that, Shockie,’ he cried, ‘we must go now. The rain is a-comin’!’
“Thereupon Shock made her next move, which was to lie flat on her back and cry louder. She hadn’t begun to kick yet, but Patsy knew she would.
“Another great drop fell, and another. It grew bright about them, then suddenly darker than ever, as if somebody had lighted the gas and blown it out.