have to go another day. And you can
find your bucket then, Henrietta."

The chums drove their craft up the lake and in half an hour sighted
the Norwood place and its roses. Everything ashore was saturated, of
course. And in one place the girls saw that the storm had done some
damage.

A grove of tall trees at the head of the lake and near the landing
belonging to the Norwood place was a landmark that could be seen for
several miles and from almost any direction on this side of Bonwit
Boulevard. As the canoe swept in toward the dock Amy cried aloud:

"Look! Look, Jess! No wonder we thought that thunder was so sharp. It
struck here."

"The thunder struck?" repeated Jessie, laughing. "I _am_
thunderstruck, then. You mean----Oh, Amy! That beautiful great tree!"

She saw what had first caught Amy's eye. One of the tallest of the
trees was split from near its top almost to the foot of the trunk. The
white gash looked like a wide strip of paper pasted down the stick of
ruined timber.

"Isn't that too bad?" said Amy, staring.

But suddenly Jessie drove her paddle deep into the water and sent the
canoe in a dash to the landing. She fended off skillfully, hopped out,
and began to run.

"What is the matter, Jess?" shrieked Amy. "You've left me to do all
the work."

"Momsy!" gasped out Jessie, looking back for an instant. "She was
scared to death that the lightning would strike the house because of
the radio aerial."

Her chum came leaping up the hill behind her, having moored the canoe
with one hitch. She cried out:

"No danger from lightning if you shut the switch at the set. You know
that, Jessie."

"But Momsy doesn't know it," returned the other girl, and dashed madly
into the house.

She had forgotten to tell her mother of that fact--the safety of the
closed receiving switch. She felt condemned. Suppose her mother had
been frightened by the thunder and lightning and should pay for it
with one of her long and torturing sick headaches?

"Momsy! Momsy!" she cried, bursting into the hall.

"Your mother is down town, Miss Jessie," said the quiet voice of the
parlor maid. "She drove down in her own car before the storm."

"Oh! She wasn't here when the lightning struck----"

"No, Miss Jessie. And that was some thunder-clap! Cook says she'll
never get over it. But I guess she will. Bill, the gardener's boy,
says it struck a tree down by the water."

"So it did," Jessie rejoined with relief. "Well, I certainly