t it; then glanced up at the sky again.

"Excuse me, then, God," he remarked airily.

Rilla scanned the sky also; she did not like its appearance; a heavy
thundercloud was appearing in the northwest. What in the world was to
be done? There was no other train that night, since the nine o'clock
special ran only on Saturdays. Would it be possible for them to reach
Hannah Brewster's house, two miles away, before the storm broke? Rilla
thought she could do it alone easily enough, but with Jims it was
another matter. Were his little legs good for it?

"We've got to try it," said Rilla desperately. "We might stay in the
siding until the thunderstorm is over; but it may keep on raining all
night and anyway it will be pitch dark. If we can get to Hannah's she
will keep us all night."

Hannah Brewster, when she had been Hannah Crawford, had lived in the
Glen and gone to school with Rilla. They had been good friends then,
though Hannah had been three years the older. She had married very
young and had gone to live in Millward. What with hard work and babies
and a ne'er-do-well husband, her life had not been an easy one, and
Hannah seldom revisited her old home. Rilla had visited her once soon
after her marriage, but had not seen her or even heard of her for
years; she knew, however, that she and Jims would find welcome and
harbourage in any house where rosy-faced, open-hearted, generous Hannah
lived.

For the first mile they got on very well but the second one was harder.
The road, seldom used, was rough and deep-rutted. Jims grew so tired
that Rilla had to carry him for the last quarter. She reached the
Brewster house, almost exhausted, and dropped Jims on the walk with a
sigh of thankfulness. The sky was black with clouds; the first heavy
drops were beginning to fall; and the rumble of thunder was growing
very loud. Then she made an unpleasant discovery. The blinds were all
down and the doors locked. Evidently the Brewsters were not at home.
Rilla ran to the little barn. It, too, was locked. No other refuge
presented itself. The bare whitewashed little house had not even a
veranda or porch.

It was almost dark now and her plight seemed desperate.

"I'm going to get in if I have to break a window," said Rilla
resolutely. "Hannah would want me to do that. She'd never get over it
if she heard I came to her house for refuge in a thunderstorm and
couldn't get in."

Luckily she did not have to go to the length of actual hous