"Well, I'm thankful!" cried Mrs. Green. "Hadn't you better run out an' help her off with her wet things, Lois?" But the sitting-room door opened, and Mrs. Field stood there, a tall black shadow hardly shaped out from the gloom. The women all arose and hurried toward her. There was a shrill flurry of greeting. Mrs. Field's voice arose high and terrified above it. "Who is it?" she cried out. "Who's here?" "Why, your old neighbors, Mrs. Field. Don't you know us--Mandy an' Mis' Green an' Mis' Babcock? We come down on an excursion ticket to Boston--only three dollars an' sixty cents--an' we thought we'd surprise you." "Ain't you dreadful wet, Mis' Field?" interposed Mrs. Green's solicitous voice. "You'd better go and change your dress," said Amanda. "When did you come?" said Mrs. Field. "Jest now. For the land sakes, Mis' Field, your dress is soppin' wet! Do go an' change it, or you'll catch your death of cold." Mrs. Field did not stir. The hail pelted on the windows. "Now, you go right along an' change it," cried Mrs. Babcock. "Well," said Mrs. Field vaguely, "mebbe I'd better." She fumbled her way unsteadily toward her bedroom door. "You go help her; it's dark as a pocket," said Mrs. Babcock imperatively to Lois; and the girl followed her mother. "They act dreadful queer, seems to me," whispered Mrs. Babcock, when the bedroom door was closed. "I guess it's jest because they're so surprised to see us," Mrs. Green whispered back. "Well, if I ain't wanted, I can go back to where I come from, if I do have to throw the money away," Mrs. Babcock said, almost aloud. "I think they act queer, both on 'em. I should think they might seem a little mite more pleased to see three old neighbors so." "Mebbe it's the thunder-shower that's kind of dazed 'em," said Amanda. She herself was much afraid of a thunder-shower. She had her feet well drawn up, and her hand over her eyes. "It's a mercy Mis' Field wa'n't killed out in it," said Mrs. Green. "I don't see what in creation she stayed out so in it for," rejoined Mrs. Babcock. "She must have seen the cloud comin' up. This is a pretty big house, ain't it? An' I should think it was furnished nice, near's I can see, but it's terrible old-fashioned." Amanda huddled up in her chair, looked warily at the strange shadows in this unfamiliar room, and wished she were at home. The storm increased rather than diminished. When Mrs. Field and Lois returned, all the women, at Mrs. Babcock's order, drew their chairs close together in the middle of the room.