It was nice, made of heavy waterproof cloth, with a lovely woolly trimming going all around it. Susie liked that sack almost better than anything else in the world. Her mother had bought it second-hand of a woman whose little girl had outgrown it; the mother had washed all day and ironed another day to pay for it, and felt the liveliest delight in seeing Susie in the pretty garment. The rain seemed to be quieting a little, so presently the young woman was robed in sack and waterproof bonnet with a cape, and started on her way. Half-way to the grocery she met Jerry hastening home from school with a bag of books slung across his shoulder. “Is it so late as that?” asked Susie in dismay. “Nettie thought you wouldn’t be at home in a good while; the candy won’t get done.” “No, it is as early as this,” he answered laughing; “we were dismissed an hour earlier than usual this afternoon. Where are you going? after molasses? See here, suppose you give me the jug and you take my books and scud home. There is a big storm coming on; I think the wind is going to blow, and I’m afraid it will twist you all up and pour the molasses over you. Then you’d be ever so sticky!” Susie laughed and exchanged not unwillingly the heavy jug for the books. There had been quite wind enough since she started, and if there was to be more, she had no mind to brave it. “If you hurry,” called Jerry, “I think you’ll get home before the next squall comes.” So she hurried; but Jerry was mistaken. The squall came with all its force, and poor small Susie was twisted and whirled and lost her breath almost, and panted and struggled on, and was only too thankful that she hadn’t the molasses jug. Nearly opposite the Farley home, their side door suddenly opened and a pleasant voice called: “Little girl, come in here, and wait until the shower is over; you will be wet to the skin.” It is true Susie did not believe that her waterproof sack _could_ be wet through, but that dreadful wind so frightened her, twisting the trees as it did, that she was glad to obey the kind voice and rush into shelter. “Why, it is Nettie’s sister, I do believe!” said Ermina Farley, helping her off with the dripping hood. “You dear little mouse, what sent you out in such a storm?” Miss Susie not liking the idea of being a mouse much more than she did being a chicken, answered with dignity, and becoming brevity. “Molasses candy!” said Mrs. Farley, laughing, yet with an undertone of disapproval in her voice which keen-minded Susie heard and felt, “I shouldn’t think that was a necessity of life on such a day as this.” “It is if you have promised it to some boys who don’t ever have anything nice only what they get at our house; and who save their pennies that they spend on beer, and cider, and cigars to get it.”