"I don't see why we should, just because there happens to be a little water
in the kitchen. I've often seen it come in there before."

"Well, thee never saw anything like _this_ before--nor anybody else,
either," said Shep.

"I don't care," said Reuby, "I wish there'd come a reg'lar flood. We could
climb up in the mill-loft and go sailin' down over Jordan's meadows.
Wouldn't Luke Jordan open that big mouth of his to see us heave in sight
about cock-crow, wing and wing, and the old tackle a-swingin'!"

"Do hush!" said Dorothy. "We may have to try it yet."

"There's an awful roarin' from our window," said Shep. "Thee can't half
hear it down here. Come out on the stoop. The old ponds have got their
dander up this time."

They opened the door and listened, standing together on the low step. There
was, indeed, a hoarse murmur from the hills, which grew louder as they
listened.

"Now she's comin'! There goes the stable-door. There was only one hinge
left, anyway," said Reuby. "Mighty! Look at that wave!"

It crashed through the gate, swept across the garden and broke at their
feet, sending a thin sheet of water over the floor of the porch.

"Now it's gone into the entry. Why didn't thee shut the door, Shep?"