"B'lindy's bones certainly did feel right," Nancy giggled, excitedly. "Oh-h!" at another flash. "_Pe-ter_! I'm--I'm such a coward. Don't you think that's the worst?" Peter hoped that it wasn't. He did not mind at all the flashes that sent little quivers of alarm through Nancy and made her huddle closer to him; he enjoyed the sense of protecting her, though his face, bent grimly upon the puddled road ahead, gave no hint of his real feeling. "If this bus only had its curtains! Are you soaked?" "You are, too, Peter! Do you suppose this is a cloudburst? Can the car make it?" For the little Ford was floundering uncertainly along the flooded road. "What an end to our picnic," declared Peter, disgustedly. "Ha--a house, as I live! See ahead there." Through the sheet of rain Nancy made out a low-gabled cottage almost hidden by the trees. "It looks deserted," she declared, disappointedly. "It'll be shelter, anyway. Deserted nothing--hear the dog! When I stop make a dash for the door." The dog's bark was by way of a welcome rather than a warning, for, as he bounded toward the road, his shaggy tail wagged in a most friendly way. As Nancy, following Peter's command, made a dash for shelter, the door of the cottage opened hospitably and a little old woman, unmindful of the fury of the rain, reached out to draw Nancy in. "Come right in! Bless me, you're soaked." She had a cheery, piping voice and a way of repeating, "well, well, well," as though everything on earth was an exciting surprise. "Won't your young man come in, too. Sit right over here by the fire! I told sister Janie that I'd light a few sticks of wood to keep it cheery. It got so dark-like. I'll set the kettle over and have a cup of tea in the shake of a dog's tail. When it storms in these parts it _does_ storm, dearie! How wet you are!" She fussed over the fire and over her kettle and over Nancy's wet blouse. "Now, Janie, isn't it nice to have folks come here out of the storm?" Then Nancy, through the gloom of the storm, made out that Janie was another little old woman sitting in an old arm chair in the window. Quite unmindful of the storm, she was tranquilly knitting. "Folks don't come by this road so often," she smiled back. "Aren't you afraid--sitting there?" Nancy cried. As she spoke there came a flash of lightning followed almost simultaneously by a roar of thunder that threatened the weather-beaten walls. The sister called Janie waited smilingly, her head cocked on one side as though she enjoyed the storm. "Afraid, honey? Goodness, no. Saphrony and I've lived through too many of these storms to be afraid! Isn't the Lord watching over us just like all folks?" "And didn't He just bring you poor souls here out of the storm?" added the older woman. "This tea will steep in a minit and I'm goin' to call that boy in!"