"
"You mean you'd like a fishing trip as an excuse to go back north,
don't you, Dexter?" Caleb badgered him.
Allison was smiling blandly, for Caleb's joke over his round-about
methods was an old, old joke, when Stephen O'Mara spoke.
"It's goin' to rain," said the boy.
Allison turned toward him, his eyes again quizzical.
"I suppose so," he admitted. "In the general course of things it'll
come, no doubt, but----"
The boy interrupted him, shaking his head.
"It's goin' to come before mornin'," he stated inflectionlessly, "and
it's comin' to stay fer a spell, too!"
And Allison did not try to hide his broad grin of amusement.
"You think so, do you, sonny?" he dismissed the matter not unkindly.
"Well, at that, your guess when it comes to the weather, is about as
good as the next man's."
Once more the boy shook his head.
"I ain't guessin'," he finished unabashed. "Ner I ain't thinkin' it
will. It'll jest be rainin', come sun-up, and it'll be good for 'til
Wednesday, fer sure!"
Caleb, watching the boy's face, was on the point of offering to wager
two bits with Allison that the prophecy held good, but Sarah's
well-known attitude toward the vice of gambling checked him in the rash
offer. Besides, he wondered how he could make sound anything but
foolish an offer to back the certainty of a weather forecast which was
based upon nothing but the unassuming and quiet finality of the prophet.
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