They had not yet made definite plans for the summer and were just in
the position of waiting for something to happen when something had
happened with a vengeance-- but not at all the kind of something which
the four girls had expected.

"I think you are right, my dear," said the man who had saved the lives
of at least two of the girls, rubbing his hands fussily together and
peering out of small, near-sighted eyes, first at the tree and then at
the girls. "It was a close call-- a very close call. I declare, it was
very nearly the closest call I ever saw!"

For the first time the girls really looked at him. He was a rather
small man, slenderly built, with long sensitive hands and a very bald
head, in the center of which a tuft of hair stood comically upright.
These characteristics, coupled to the squinting eyes, gave the man a
very odd appearance.

He was so queer a figure standing there in the center of the road that
the girls found themselves staring unduly. Realizing something of
this, Betty jumped down from the running board where she was still
standing and held out her hand to the little man, thanking him in a
voice that still trembled a little for the great service he had done
them. The other girls followed suit and so overwhelmed their rescuer
that he seemed quite embarrassed and looked around nervously as if for
some means of escape.

Betty, seeing his embarrassment, was about to take pity upon him when
something happened that they had not bargained for. It began to rain,
not gently, but in a deluge, taking the girls completely by surprise.