It was a rainy day, and the wind was blowing about like mad. Penny was sitting with her big sisters by the fire. They had just been playing on a large map of the world, but it became too difficult to pick out anything while the room whirled round. Suddenly a gust of wind blew the window wide open, and in came something that looked like a paper boat, caught round a big splash.
“What’s that?” cried Penny.
“Penny!” said her sister Mabel, with a smile, “it’s only paper washed out of the nook by the pond. Mother, may I go and collect some to make paper boats with?”
“I’ll go too,” said Penny eagerly.
“Come in!” it cried; “come in, and be a queen.”
Penny did not understand it, but she did not say no.
“Mind the puddles!” called Mabel, as she saw Penny’s big hat bobbing down the road.
How beautiful the little pond looked! The rain had poured in such torrents that it had filled up all the little ditches and rivulets, and the great tree in the meadow was a fountain that burst up and danced about instead of bending down till every leaf that could possibly clasp was drenched. Just above the water, Penny’s bit of a reed brought tip-tap-tap while the wind moaned in the twisted branches.
Still the rain poured, and still the muddy road bubbled up and made little pools. Even the hillside stream began to tumble down its rocks in more than its usual hurry.
However, Penny waded about, sloshed and splashed, till she managed to gather quite a lot of paper. She pulled it off twigs and bits of glass, and collected it all in her big hat, and then she stepped into the bank.
Those little boats were such huge follies! They flared about, just like a pet cat; and in spite of the strongest wind and rain, splashed and swam away beautifully. One black cloud, with jagged sighs of white running through, turned nearly all the rest of the clouds into new paper-boats that dashed here and there over the pond.
“Wet Again!” cried the wind, and slashed Penny’s raindrops all about.
Penny just turned up the collar of her Prince Of Wales, put back her hat, and hitched up her frock.
“Splendid sport!” she cried, beginning to dance.
The roads and ditches now could hardly hold up their heads from laughing, but just then came a SQUELCH like a clod of wet mud, for hand in hand out of the road jumped all the eternal puddles.
“I’ll take your hand,” said one, “if you please. YOU ARE A SCREECHER.”
“I’ll take yours,” said the other, “if you please. YOU ARE A STARER.”
Over they tumbled, first one, and he jerked his puddle after him. Then each fell on one after the other, not noticing that every time they fell the neighbours got too muddy from too close squelching.
The Wind creaked and the Age never stirred. The Paper came down from the Sky to dry the Earth again.
Then there began quite a long squabble on the bank about the paper….
“Us and our Prince of Wales!”
“You are Americans!”
“I am crumpled all to bits!”
“Then we’ll crumple!”
Penny laughed and laughed, and then she saw what a great deal of play-folk there were on the pronunciation of her song, “Take Heart!” so she ran indoors.
She was still whispering it to herself in bed at the last moment at night when suddenly she seemed to hear it called out quite plainly in her window:
“We’re sailing by your window; we’re sailing by your bed! We’re sailing by your sister, who flat-headed her head. We’re sailing now toward Dover. We’re waving now goodbye, But don’t forget, or This Night You sail upon the Sky.”