roof of boughs which had hidden from their view the swiftly
gathering clouds was wholly inadequate to the task of sheltering them
from the contents of the clouds. Great cracks of lightning showed in the
dark sky, and thunder rattled and roared and rumbled and burst.

Polly looked grave.

"We'll drown if we stay here, and we could never row home. Look at the
waves! And if we stay here, we're also liable to be struck by lightning.
Let's leave the boat and make for that farmhouse across the pasture."

"I'm afraider of the cow," said Frieda. "But I'll go. We can hide the
oars and oar-locks in the bushes."

Progress across the pasture was difficult, but when the road beyond was
reached, both looked aghast at the muddy stream of it.

Frieda rolled under the fence and stepped boldly in. Polly, gasping with
laughter, started to climb over.

"You might as well roll," advised Frieda. "You can't wetten yourself
more than you are already, and it is pleasant to roll."

"That's a matter of taste!" panted Polly, balancing herself on the top
of the fence.

Suddenly Frieda gave a little shriek. Polly instantly fell forward into
the mud, her skirt catching on all the barbs in the fence and rending
itself horribly. Frieda, full of wild exclamations of pity and remorse,
helped her up and wiped the thickest of the mud from her once piquant
face.

"It was the cow," she confessed. "I saw him coming from afar and I
squealed. I did not know it would make you tumble, but I had to squeal.
I fear cows. I have great alarm before them."

"I forgive you," Polly was weak with mirth. "But we've got to get into
that house and telephone for some one to come out from town and take us
home. We could never walk in these roads, and I should tie myself all up
in knots if I walked in this shredded skirt. One more little spurt,
Frieda, and we're at the kitchen door!"

It looked for a minute as though they would never get beyond the door.
The respectable lady who met them there was scarcely to blame if she
judged a little by outward appearance. Polly's efforts to be suave were
discounted by the muddy look of her eye, and the fact that water was
dripping from her hair into her face.

"Won't you please let us come in and telephone for a carriage, and then
wait for it?" she pleaded. "I will gladly pay for the use of the
'phone." Then it came over her sickeningly that she had no money with
her.

"I'm Polly Osgood," she said. "My father is the Osgood