RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
She was shaking with fright.
"Nellie," she exclaimed, "I just can't stand it any longer! Do let's find everything there is to light and call Will and sit out in the sala. Heaven only knows what's going to happen!"
We searched around and found some more candles; then I went to call my husband. He was sleeping as soundly as if nothing at all were happening. I shook him and called him and shook him again. I thought he never would wake up, but finally he did, and just then I heard the crash of a tree blowing down in the garden, while the floor seemed to heave under my feet.
"What's the matter?" asked my sleepy husband.
"Will, there's an awful storm. Please come out in the sala and sit with Maria and me."
"All right," he said, and slowly got himself into an all-enveloping dressing gown.
We huddled ourselves in chairs in the big hallway and sat listening. Rain always comes with the wind in typhoons and the dash of water against the windows and the sides of the house was deafening. But the noise was suddenly punctuated by a gentle snore. Mr. Taft had settled himself back in his chair and gone quietly to sleep. Maria's nerves were on edge; without a word she jumped up and shook her tired-out brother-in-law most vigorously, crying above the roar of the storm:
"Will Taft, what do you think we waked you up for? You can't go back to sleep. We want you to stay awake and comfort us!"
"All right, Maria," said he, with the utmost good nature; whereupon he sat up, changed his position to one more comfortable, and proceeded to lapse again into peaceful slumber.
The next morning Maria and I drove down through the town to see the effects of the typhoon. Three trees were
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