“Did you see a funny old lady with a green umbrella out in the storm?”
“What’s this—a riddle?” and Mr. Bobbsey smiled.
“An’ she had a big basket!” added Flossie.
Mr. Bobbsey looked at his wife, to ask what it was all about, and she told briefly about the strange woman passing the house in the storm, carrying the big basket, which seemed to be heavy.
“No, I didn’t see her,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “It’s hard to see anything in this storm,” he added. “Is my rubber coat here at the house?” he asked his wife.
“Why?” she wanted to know, looking quickly at him. “You aren’t going out again to-night, are you?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to,” he replied. “The river is rising with so much rain, and I have men moving back some of the lumber so it won’t be washed away. But I’ll not be gone longer than I can help.”
The Bobbsey twins were disappointed that their father could not remain indoors with them and tell stories this stormy night. But, as he explained, it was needful that he look after his lumber, many great piles of which were on the very brink of the river that flowed into Lake Metoka.
“I started men moving back some of the piles before I left to come home to supper,” he said. “I want to go back and find out how much more is left.”
“No, I’m afraid not, little man,” his father answered. “You couldn’t do anything in the darkness, and you’d only be in the way.”
“Maybe. I’ll see about it,” promised Mr. Bobbsey. He put on his big rubber coat and went out into the storm after supper.
The thunder and lightning seemed to have passed over, but it was still raining hard. Mrs. Bobbsey let the younger twins stay up a bit later than usual, but at last their nodding heads showed her it was time they went to bed. Bert and Nan soon followed and Mrs. Bobbsey sat down to read until her husband should return.
The wind howled mournfully through the trees, dashing the rain against the windows, and, more than once, Mrs. Bobbsey looked up and shivered a little as she thought of her husband out in the storm, trying to save his lumber from being washed away.
“That poor old woman, too,” mused Mrs. Bobbsey, as she thought of the one with the green umbrella. “She looked friendless and forlorn. I hope she finds shelter for the night.”