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Page 51
"Oh, if you like the dignities of meteorology, I think we might
very properly call this a tornado."
"A tornado! I have been out in a tornado! And how splendid it all
is!"
Roger laughed again. "Splendid, eh? So it is! Rather good fun,
too, now we are on dry land."
"Glorious fun!" cried Hildegarde.
The water still raced past at their feet; the rain still poured
down, the thunder cracked and roared and bellowed, and the
lightning blazed. But under the canoe it was really quite dry,
considering; and the chocolate was excellent, and, on the whole,
both Hildegarde and Roger thought well of tornadoes.
Meanwhile, there were some anxious faces at the camp. The storm
had broken there as suddenly as out on the lake. Bell and Gertrude
were out fishing, but fortunately near the shore, and they reached
home just as the fury broke loose. Obadiah and Ferguson were blown
in on the gale, turning handsprings as they came, and singing
"Oh, I'd give a sight
For to be a kite
When the wind is howly-wowling!"
Willy and Kitty were discovered, after a few minutes' anxious
search, under the great apple-tree, in high glee because it was
raining apples, and the wind would mash them, and the lightning
would cook them, and there was no need of coming home to tea, with
apple-sauce growing on every tree. Being hoisted on the shoulders
of the twins, they changed their point of view, and turning into
Arabs mounted on camels, capered joyously into the house, to
escape the sand-storm of the desert. Mr. Merryweather, who was
spending a day or two in camp, came in from the boathouse, where
he was tinkering boats as usual. The whole party sat down, wet and
dishevelled, and drew breath as they looked at each other.
"Well, this is a visitation!" said Mr. Merryweather. "Why didn't
some of you tell me what was going on?"
"None of us knew till we found our faces slapped and our hair
pulled out," said Bell. "This is a surprise-party, I think, got up
for our special benefit."
"Are we all here?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "Let me count! One,
two, three, four, five, six, and you and I, Miles, make eight. But
where are Roger and Hilda?"
"Out in the Cheemaun!" was the reply in chorus. There was a
general exclamation of dismay, then each one commented in his
fashion.
"Cricky!" said Phil. "The Professor will have a great chance for
meteoro-lolli-lolli-logical observations, won't he?"
"I fear, my gentle Roger,
You'll be as wet as Bodger!"
said Gerald.
"Who is Bodger?" asked little Kitty.
"Bodger, my blessed child, was a stodger, and a codger, and a very
artful dodger; he carried his bones to David Jones, and asked to
be took as a lodger."
"Do be quiet, Jerry!" said Bell. "Father, can the canoe stand such
a gale as this?"
"And Hilda had on her BEST DRESS!" said Kitty, with tragic
emphasis.
"Ho! Hilda doesn't care for dresses!" said Willy, scornfully. "I
got wheel-grease all over her skirt, the other day, and she didn't
say a word."
"I do feel anxious, Miles," said Mrs. Merryweather. "This is an
awful gale."
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