ut into the
storm, going around the side path toward the back yard and lot where the
children had made their gardens.

"Where is he going?" asked Mab.

"To look for Hal," answered her mother.

"Where is Hal?"

"He must have gone out in the storm to see what made it hail, I suppose."

"Oh, if one of the big hail stones hits him on the end of his nose he'll
cry!" exclaimed Aunt Lolly.

"Well, he'll know better than to do it again," said Uncle Pennywait
"Listen to Roly-Poly howling!"

The little poodle dog was afraid of thunder and lightning, and every time
there was a storm he used to get in the darkest corner of the house and
howl. He was doing this now as Daddy Blake ran to the garden to find where
Hal was.

"He's back there--out where his corn is planted!" called Mr. Porter to
Hal's father as Daddy Blake ran around the house. "I saw him from our
kitchen window, and I thought I'd tell you."

"I'm glad you did!" shouted Mr. Blake. Both he and Mr. Porter had to
shout to be heard above the noise of the storm; for the thunder was very
loud, and the patter of the rain drops, and the rattle of the hail made a
very great racket indeed.

[Illustration]

When Daddy Blake turned around the corner of the house and started down
the main path that led through the vegetable garden, he saw a strange
sight. There stood Hal, in the midst of his little corn field, out in the
pelting rain and hail, holding the biggest umbrella over as many of the
stalks of corn as he could shelter. And Hal himself was dripping wet for
the rain blew under the umbrella.

"What are you doing?" cried Mr. Blake.

"Keeping the hail off my corn," answered Hal. "You said the hail stones
would tear the green leaves all to pieces and I don't want it to. Can't
Mab come out and hold an umbrella, too? You've got one, Daddy, so you can
help."

Mr. Blake wanted to laugh but he did not like to hurt Hal's feelings.
Besides he was a little worried lest Hal take cold in the pelting storm.
So he said:

"You must come in, Hal. Holding an umbrella over your corn would only save
one hill from the hail and saving that one hill would not make up for you
getting ill. We shall have to let the storm do its worst, and trust that
not all the corn will be spoiled."

"Is that what the farmers do?" asked Hal, making his way between the rows
of corn toward his father.

"Yes. They can't stop the hail and they can't cover the corn. Sometimes it
doesn't do a great dea