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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.
