But at his startled question, a
wet face and a mass of tangled curls and apple blossoms, equally
wet, emerged from the soaking laprobe.
"Here I am!" said a plaintive little voice that tried hard to be
brave. But a sharp flare of lightning sent the golden head
suddenly back to its hiding-place.
"Miss Fairfield is awfully afraid of electrical storms," explained
Jack, patting the wet heap anywhere, in a well-meant attempt at
reassurance.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Daisy. "What a 'fraid-cat! I'm not frightened,--
but I'm terribly wet. I'm soaked! I'm drowned!"
"So are we all, Daisy," said Bill, shivering as the wind flapped
his dripping shirtsleeves; "but what CAN we do? The car won't
move."
"Well, WE can move! Let's get out and walk."
"Why, Daisy, what's the use? Where could we walk to?"
"Well, I think you two men are horrid! You just sit there and let
Patty and me catch our death of cold. Though Patty is wrapped up
snug and warm in that robe. If SHE'S protected you don't care
about ME!"
"Daisy! what nonsense---" began Bill, but Patty's head popped out
again.
"If you think I'm snug and warm, Daisy Dow, you're greatly
mistaken! I NEVER was so uncomfortable in all my life! And I'm
scared besides! That's more than you are!"
Jack Pennington laughed.
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