“The stars are shining!” announced Bob, putting his head under the edge of the canvas the moment the rain had stopped.  “The show is over.”

“So is the tent—­and sleep,” added Alec.  Crawling along under the wreckage, he had encountered Bob’s heel.  “This is a nice mess!  What on earth are we to do now?”

“Get everybody out under the sky,” commanded Jarvis, working his way out.  He ran round to the back of the tent and found Sally emerging.  He gave her a hand.

“Why, you’re wet!” he said, as his hand touched the sleeve of the blue kimono she had been wearing when she sat in the open doorway.

She felt of his sleeve in turn.  “I’m not a circumstance to you,” she answered.  “You must be soaked to the skin, you and Bob.”

“That’s no matter, this warm night.  Mother, Jo, where are you?  Max, lend a hand here, and let’s lift this canvas so they can get out.”

“But it’s not a warm night now,” declared Mrs. Burnside, when she had reached the open air, and had found out for herself how wet at least three of the party were.  “We must manage to dry you all, somehow.”

“I hope you people are satisfied,” Max reiterated.  It was the fourth time he had said it.

“Of course we’re satisfied!” cried Sally, with spirit.  “Who wants a camping party without any adventures?  We can’t have bears here in our pine grove, so we have thunderstorms.”

“Thunderstorms!  That was a cyclone, if it was anything!” growled Max.

“If it was, we’re safe from ever having another!” cried Bob.  “They never hit the same place twice, I’m told.  Hello, there comes a lantern through the hedge.  Thought Mr. Ferry’d be looking us up.”

“Ship ahoy!” called a hailing voice.  “All hands on deck?  Shall I man a lifeboat?  Well, well,” in astonishment, as he came nearer, “where are you, anyhow?  Where’s the tent?”

“Don’t look so high up!” Jarvis called back.  “Lower your glass to the horizon line.  We’re out in the open sea!”

Ferry surveyed the group by the light of his lantern.  “Anybody get wet?” he asked.  “Yes, I should say you did.  See here, you wet ones, don’t delay a minute, for the storm has made the air twenty degrees cooler.  Run over to our house.  Mother’s expecting you all.”

“We can’t all get inside your house!” chuckled Bob.

“Let’s go into our own,” urged Sally.  “Max has the key, and we can carry in the cots—­they’re not wet—­and have a fire in the big fireplace—­”

Bob pinched her arm.  “Say, Sis, it’s a chance for you to get into the house.”

“Of course it is,” Sally whispered back, her eyes dancing in the light from the lantern.

“I think that is the best plan, don’t you, Max?” questioned Jarvis.

Max nodded reluctantly.  No matter how hospitably the tiny cottage might be thrown open for their reception, it would certainly be overtaxing its capacity to attempt to make nine extra people comfortable there for the remainder of the night—­it was barely one o’clock.