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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

"
Dale abruptly sat down, leaned forward, and then knelt upon the
boarded floor, hiding his face in his hands. He did not get up until
the pastor had given the blessing and the people were moving out.


XIX

As so often happens toward the latter part of April, there had come a
spell of unseasonably warm weather; thunder had been threatening for
the last week, and now at the end of an oppressive day you could
almost smell the electricity in the air.
Mavis warned Dale that he would get a sousing, when he told her that
he was obliged to go as far as Rodchurch.
"Won't it do to-morrow, Will?"
"No, I shan't have time to-morrow. Remember I'm not made of
barley-sugar. I shouldn't melt, you know, even if I hadn't got my
mack."
Norah fetched him his foul weather hat, and ran for his umbrella.
"No," he said, "I don't want that, my dear;" and he smiled at her very
kindly. "Besides, if we're going to have a storm, an umbrella is just
the article to bring the lightning down on my head."
Norah pulled away the umbrella hastily, as though she would now have
fought to the death rather than let him have it.
"Don't wait supper, Mav. I may be latish."
He walked fast, and his mackintosh made him uncomfortably warm.


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