me to suggest," observed papa, "that they would not have
ventured. It would be a liberty unbecoming their years to--"

"Oh, nonsense!" cried Lady Carse; "I hate these put-up manners. No,
miss--no, young master--I will not take your cake. I take gifts only
from those I love; and if you don't love me, I don't love you--and so
there is a Rowland for your Oliver."

The children did not know anything about Rowlands and Olivers; but they
saw that the lady was very angry--so angry that they took to their
heels, scampered away over the downs, and never stopped till they
reached home, and had hidden themselves under the bed.

They were not followed. Punishment for their act of absconding was
deferred till Lady Carse's errand should be finished. When once down
among the rocks, Lady Carse was eager to show her dear friends all the
secrets of her late hiding. As soon as Macdonald's watchman was
convinced by the lady that she was not drowned, and by the minister that
he might go home--as soon as he was fairly out of sight, the wonders of
the caves were revealed to the pastor and his wife. The party were so
interested in the anecdotes belonging to Lady Carse's season of retreat,
that they did not observe, sheltered as they were in eastern caves, that
a storm was coming up from the west--one of the tempests which
frequently rise from that quarter in the winter season, and break over
the Western Islands.

The children were aware of it before their parents. When they found
they were not followed, they soon grew tired of whispering under the
bed, and came cautiously forth.

It was very dark, strangely dark, till a glare of lightning came, which
was worse than the darkness. But the thunder was worse: it growled
fearfully, so as to make them hold their breath. The next clap made
them cry. After that cry came help.

The widow heard the wail from next door, and called to the children from
her door; and glad enough were they to take refuge with a grown-up
person who smiled and spoke cheerfully, in spite of the thunder.

"Are you not afraid of the thunder?" asked Kate, nestling so close to
the widow that she was advised to take care lest the sharp bone knitting
needles went into her eyes. "But are not you afraid of the thunder?"

"Oh, no!"

"Why?"

"Because I am not afraid of anything."

"What, not of anything at all?"

"Not of anything at all. And there are many things much more harmful
than thunder."

"What thin