“Well, this is a visitation!” said Mr. Merryweather.  “Why didn’t some of you tell me what was going on?”

“None of us knew till we found our faces slapped and our hair pulled out,” said Bell.  “This is a surprise-party, I think, got up for our special benefit.”

“Are we all here?” asked Mrs. Merryweather.  “Let me count!  One, two, three, four, five, six, and you and I, Miles, make eight.  But where are Roger and Hilda?”

“Out in the Cheemaun!” was the reply in chorus.  There was a general exclamation of dismay, then each one commented in his fashion.

“Cricky!” said Phil.  “The Professor will have a great chance for meteoro-lolli-lolli-logical observations, won’t he?”

    “I fear, my gentle Roger,
     You’ll be as wet as Bodger!”

said Gerald.

“Who is Bodger?” asked little Kitty.

“Bodger, my blessed child, was a stodger, and a codger, and a very artful dodger; he carried his bones to David Jones, and asked to be took as a lodger.”

“Do be quiet, Jerry!” said Bell.  “Father, can the canoe stand such a gale as this?”

“And Hilda had on her best dress!” said Kitty, with tragic emphasis.

“Ho!  Hilda doesn’t care for dresses!” said Willy, scornfully.  “I got wheel-grease all over her skirt, the other day, and she didn’t say a word.”

“I do feel anxious, Miles,” said Mrs. Merryweather.  “This is an awful gale.”

“Pooh! pooh!” said her husband.  “Roger knows how to take care of himself, and Hilda too.  Boys, is the skiff well moored?”

The boys knew it was, but thought it would be well to see, and disappeared by handsprings into the darkness.  A double splash, followed by joyous shouts, announced their arrival on and departure from the wharf; and they shortly reappeared, dripping and gleeful.

“Boys, how can you!” exclaimed their mother.  “This is the fifth time you have been in to-day; besides, I have just tidied up this room.  Go away with you, and drip in the tent.”

“He pushed me off, and I pulled him in!” said Phil, in explanation.  “Very sorry, shall not occur again.”

“I wanted to see how deep the water was,” said Gerald.  “Very important, you know, to take soundings in a storm.”

“Still more important to quicken the circulation after a cold bath,” said Mr. Merryweather, taking up a leather strap from the table.  The boys shrieked, and vanished through the window in a fine harlequin act.

The lightning blazed incessantly, the wind howled and roared about the camp, and the thunder pounded and smashed the clouds overhead.  Bell and her mother drew closer together, and Kitty nestled down between them, and held a hand of each, “to keep herself safe.”

“If the lightning strikes the camp, what shall we do?” asked Willy.

“I think we shall be very likely to keep still!” said his father, dryly.