“There are some clouds that look like thunderheads in the west,” said Mrs. Frost, returning from an excursion to the part of the piazza commanding that quarter. “Oh, it won’t rain to-day,” Mrs. Alger decided. “I thought there was always a breeze at Jocelyn’s,” Mrs. Scott observed, in the critical spirit of a recent arrival. “There always is,” the other explained, “except the first week you’re here.” A little breath, scarcely more than a sentiment of breeze, made itself felt. “I do believe the wind has changed,” said Mrs. Frost. “It’s east.” The others owned one by one that it was so, and she enjoyed the merit of a discoverer; but her discovery was rapidly superseded. The clouds mounted in the west, and there came a time when the ladies disputed whether they had heard thunder or not: a faction contended for the bowling alley, and another faction held for a wagon passing over the bridge just before you reached Jocelyn’s. But those who were faithful to the theory of thunder carried the day by a sudden crash that broke over the forest, and, dying slowly away among the low hills, left them deeply silent. “Some one,” said Mrs. Alger, “ought to go for those children.” On this it appeared that there were two minds as to where the children were,—whether on the beach or in the woods. “Wasn’t that thunder, Grace?” asked Mrs. Breen, with the accent by which she implicated her daughter in whatever happened. “Yes,” said Grace, from where she sat at her window, looking seaward, and waiting tremulously for her mother’s next question. “Where is Mrs. Maynard?” “She isn’t back, yet.” “Then,” said Mrs. Breen, “he really did expect rough weather.” “He must,” returned Grace, in a guilty whisper. “It’s a pity,” remarked her mother, “that you made them go.” “Yes.” She rose, and, stretching herself far out of the window, searched the inexorable expanse of sea. It had already darkened at the verge, and the sails of some fishing-craft flecked a livid wall with their white, but there was no small boat in sight. “If anything happened to them,” her mother continued, “I should feel terribly for you.” “I should feel terribly for myself,” Grace responded, with her eyes still seaward. “Where do you think they went?” “I didn’t ask,” said the girl. “I wouldn’t,” she added, in devotion to the whole truth.