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XXIV. A Prophet in His Own Country

           Notonlywaseveryblossomstrippedfromtheappletreesbutgreatboughsandbrancheswerewrenchedaway.AndoutofthetwohundredtreessetoutbytheImproversbyfarthegreaternumberweresnappedoffortorntoshreds.

           “Canitpossiblybethesameworlditwasanhourago?”askedAnne,dazedly.“ItMUSThavetakenlongerthanthattoplaysuchhavoc.”

           “ThelikeofthishasneverbeenknowninPrinceEdwardIsland,”saidMarilla,“never.IrememberwhenIwasagirltherewasabadstorm,butitwasnothingtothis.We’llhearofterribledestruction,youmaybesure.”

           “Idohopenoneofthechildrenwerecaughtoutinit,”murmuredAnneanxiously.Asitwasdiscoveredlater,noneofthechildrenhadbeen,sinceallthosewhohadanydistancetogohadtakenMr.Andrews’excellentadviceandsoughtrefugeatthepostoffice.

           “TherecomesJohnHenryCarter,”saidMarilla.

           JohnHenrycamewadingthroughthehailstoneswitharatherscaredgrin.

           “Oh,ain’tthisawful,MissCuthbert?Mr.Harrisonsentmeovertoseeifyoushadcomeoutallright.”

           “We’renoneofuskilled,”saidMarillagrimly,“andnoneofthebuildingswasstruck.Ihopeyougotoffequallywell.”

           “Yas’m.Notquitesowell,ma’am.Wewasstruck.ThelightningknockedoverthekitchenchimblyandcomedowntheflueandknockedoverGinger’scageandtoreaholeinthefloorandwentintothesullar.Yas’m.”

           “WasGingerhurt?”queriedAnne.

           “Yas’m.Hewashurtprettybad.Hewaskilled.”LateronAnnewentovertocomfortMr.Harrison.

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