"But it is beginning to rain. Oh, dear! What shall we do? It's coming
down a perfect torrent. Come back, Florence; we'll have to go inside,"
cried Dimple. And snatching up their dolls, they retreated into the
house in no enviable state of mind, between fear of the tempest and
alarm at being obliged to stay alone where they were.
"We might as well make ourselves comfortable," Florence said at last.
"Suppose we go down to the library or the dining-room. We can open the
inside shutters, and it won't seem so gloomy. I'd rather see the
lightning than stay up here in the dark."
"Oh, dear! I wish we hadn't come at all," sighed Dimple. "I wish we were
safe at home. Mamma will be so worried, for she won't know where we are.
I do wish we hadn't come."
Florence was very uncomfortable, but she tried to brave it out.
"Anyhow," she said, "it's a great deal better than to be out in the
storm. I am sure auntie will be very glad when she knows we were safe
here, and it isn't as if you had come to a perfectly strange house. The
Atkinsons are your friends, and they won't mind a bit our coming here
for shelter. I know they won't. They'd be very hard-hearted if they did
mind."
"Yes, I s'pose so," returned Dimple, somewhat comforted.
"Very likely your mamma isn't bothering at all about us," Florence went
on.
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