They walked fast, passing through the little village of Chanceford, where they attracted considerable attention.  It was not every day that four such pretty, and smartly-attired, girls were seen on the village main street—­the only thoroughfare, by the way.  Then they came to the open country again.  They had been going along at a good pace, and were practically certain of reaching Grace’s sister’s house in time for supper.

“It’s raining!” suddenly exclaimed Betty, holding up her hand to make sure.

A drop splashed on it.  Then another.  Amy looked up into the clouds overhead.

“Oh!” she cried.  “A drop fell in my eye.”

Then with a suddenness that was surprising, the shower came down hard.  Little dark spots mottled the white dust of the road.

“Run!” cried Mollie.  “There’s a house.  We can stay on the porch until the rain passes.  The people won’t mind.”

A little in advance, enclosed with a neat red fence, and setting back some distance from the road was a large, white house, with green shutters.  The windows in front were open, as was the front door, and from one casement a lace curtain flapped in the wind.

“Run!  Run!  We’ll be drenched!” cried Grace, thinking of her new walking suit.  Without more ado the girls hurried through the gate, up the gravel walk and got to the porch just as the rain reached its maximum.  It was coming down now in a veritable torrent.

“Queer the people here don’t shut their door,” remarked Betty.

“And see, the rain is coming in the parlor window,” added Amy.

“Maybe they don’t know it,” suggested Grace.  “Oh, the wind is blowing the rain right in on us!” she cried.

“I wonder if it would be impertinent to walk in?” suggested Mollie.

“We at least can knock and ask—­they won’t refuse,” said Betty.  “And really, with the wind this way, the porch is no protection at all.”

She rapped on the open door.  There was no response and she tapped again—­louder, to make it heard above the noise of the storm.

“That’s queer—­maybe no one is at home,” said Grace.

“They would hardly go off and leave the house all open, when it looked so much like rain,” declared Amy.  “Suppose we call to them?  Maybe they are upstairs.”

The girls were now getting so wet that they decided not to stand on ceremony.  They went into the hall, through the front door.  There was a parlor on one side, and evidently a sitting room on the other side of the central hall.

“See that rain coming in on the curtains and carpets!” cried Betty.  “Girls, we must close the windows,” and she darted into the parlor.  The others followed her example, and soon the house was closed against the elements.

Breathless the girls waited for some sign or evidence of life in the house.  There was none.  The place was silent, the only sound being the patter of the rain and the sighing of the wind.  The girls looked at each other.  Then Betty spoke: