Even Miss Sabrina's face was pale with alarm.
"You two women are like so many children," cried B'lindy, taking command. "Milly Leavitt, you'll work yourself into fits. Nancy's all right somewheres! I guess Peter Hyde's man enough to take care of her—mebbe they ain't where this storm is, anyways! Sabrina—you take that baby where Milly's yellin' won't wake it. Goodness knows the crashin's bad enough! Now Milly, you just hide your poor head in my lap," with grand tenderness, "I ain't afraid a bit."
Sabrina had no choice—B'lindy had put the baby into her arms and almost shoved her to the door.
She carried it to her own room and sat down very carefully. Never in her whole life had she held a little baby. What would she do if it wakened suddenly? And if it kicked and squirmed, might she not drop it?
But the baby did not kick or squirm—he felt very comfortable in Miss Sabrina's arms—he snuggled ever so gently a little closer, turned his face toward the warmth of her embrace, and throwing up one little arm, laid it against her throat. The warm, soft baby fingers burned against Sabrina's throbbing pulse—the little spark crept down, down to her old, cold heart and kindled something there—something that swept her whole being. Cautiously she held the baby closer, pressed it to her breast so that she might feel the whole perfect little body; the little lips twisted and Sabrina, thinking it was a smile, smiled back with infinite tenderness. She forgot the storm raging without, her ears were deaf to its roar; after a little she leaned her head down until she could lay her cheek against the baby's soft head.
Within the darkened room a miracle was working!
Suddenly the air was split by a sharp crackle as of a hundred rifles spitting fire close at hand; and simultaneously came a deafening roar as though the very Heavens were dropping with a crash. Through it all pierced Aunt Milly's scream. The walls of Happy House trembled and swayed; for a moment everything went black before Sabrina's eyes! Then B'lindy, running through the hall brought her sharply back to her senses.
"We're struck—we're struck! Sabrin'y! Jonathan!"
Once more Happy House had been struck by lightning! The crashing had been the tumbling of the bricks of the chimney. And just as in that other storm, long before, the lightning had worked its vengeance on the old mantel. It lay in pieces on the floor of the sitting-room, covered with a litter of broken bric-a-brac and mortar and bricks from the chimney.
But in the fear of fire no one thought of the mantel. B'lindy ran wildly around ordering Jonathan to throw buckets of water on any cranny that might possibly conceal a smouldering flame, at the same time heaping all kinds of curses down upon the heads of the neighbors who'd "let Happy House burn right to the ground without liftin' a finger." And Sabrina, after one look at the lightning's havoc, still with the baby in her arms, had gone to quiet Miss Milly.