It was black, and low down along the horizon flashes of lightning were playing.

My prophecy of showers was to be fulfilled.
The ladies of the Methodist Society, assisted by their husbands and male friends, were hurrying the tables and chairs indoors.

I picked up and folded the chair I had been occupying and joined the busy group.

It was so dark that faces were almost invisible, but I recognized Sim Eldredge by his voice, and George Taylor and I bumped into each other as we seized the same table.
"Hello, Ros!" exclaimed the cashier.

"Thought you'd gone.