Oh, Dimple, you haven't shown me the portrait
yet; where is it?"
"In the library. Come, we'll go there now."
"My, but it's dark in here!" Florence exclaimed, as they entered the
room. "Let us open the shutters a little so we can see the picture."
This they managed to do, shutting the window carefully.
"It seems dark still," Dimple remarked. "I wonder what makes this such a
dark room." Just then they heard a mighty crash and both started, then
clung to each other, whispering, "What's that?"
"It is thunder," said Dimple, when a second peal was heard. "Oh, how
dark it is. Come, Florence; we must hurry. Open the window and shut the
shutters as quick as you can and I'll go to the dining-room. We must
leave everything as we found it."
"Don't leave me," Florence implored. "I can't bear to be alone when the
lightning flashes so." And together they fastened the shutters and the
windows, then ran to the porch, where they had left their dolls.
An angry gust was blowing the dust about furiously. The trees swayed and
creaked, lashing their branches about in a very terrifying way. The
thunder growled and muttered, while sharp flashes of lightning zigzagged
across the sky almost incessantly.
"We would never dare to go down the tree while it is blowing so," said
Florence, after they had surveyed the scene for a moment in silence.
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