"Why did we not notice the storm before?" said Aunt Faith, in dismay; "it must have been some time coming up." "No, Aunt," said Bessie; "probably not more than ten minutes. That is what I mean when I call the western lakes treacherous; the changes are so sudden." "You are right, Miss Darrell," said Mr. Gay, looking over the dark water with an uneasy expression in his face; "I don't think much of these fresh water mill-ponds. On the ocean, now, we know what to expect." "Isn't there some house near by, Hugh?" asked Aunt Faith. "No, Aunt. I selected this place because it was so solitary, you remember; there is no house within two miles." "Could we not get there, by driving rapidly, before the storm reaches us?" said Mr. Gay, mindful of his rheumatism. "I am afraid not, sir," replied Hugh: "it would take some time to harness the horses, and besides, the house is not on the road, but across the fields towards the south." "What _shall_ we do?" said Edith Chase, as the sullen water began to break with a low sound on the beach at her feet. "The lake is beginning to growl already," said Hugh. "Come, Aunt Faith, let us go back to the woods; we will make the best shelter we can for you, all. A summer thunder-storm is not such a terrible disaster after all." "We can't trim up the wagon with all the beautiful wreaths we made," lamented Gem. "It's too bad!" "The shower will prevent the show," said Hugh, laughing. "Why is Hugh like Tennyson's Brook," said Rose Saxon, as the party made their way back to the glen. "Because he is _idyl_," said Bessie. "Good, but not correct. Because he,-- 'Chatters, chatters, as he goes, Till all our nerves do quiver,-- For we may talk, or we may stop, But Hugh puns on forever, Ever, Hugh puns on forever.'" sang Rose, taking up the well-known air as she sprang over the rocks in advance of the rest. "We shall have to make an impromptu wigwam under the shelter of those rocks and beech-trees," said Mr. Leslie, collecting the shawls and water-proof cloaks; "the foliage of the beech is very thick, and the rock will protect you from the west, in which direction the storm is coming. Mr. Marr, please throw down those shawls." "What is the matter, Mr. Leslie?" said Sibyl, descending from her perch. "A thunder-storm!" said Hugh, "and close upon us, too!" "Surely, then, you are not thinking of remaining here under the trees," said Graham Marr, hastily putting on his water-proof coat. "The ladies will be in more danger from the drenching rain, than from the lightning," replied Mr. Leslie, breaking down branches for his wigwam. "Here, Jonas! Jonas! have you a hatchet there?"