THE STORM GATHERS The long summer afternoon wore away, sunset came, red and angry, a sunset presaging storm.

A chill crept into the air with the twilight.
When night fell, it was not a night of silver patterns enskied, but a dark and cloudy cloak where a few stars glittered fitfully.

Miss Cornelia, at dinner, saw a bat swoop past the window of the dining room in its scurrying flight, and narrowly escaped oversetting her glass of water with a nervous start.

The tension of waiting--waiting--for some vague menace which might not materialize after all--had begun to prey on her nerves.

She saw Dale off to the country club with relief--the girl looked a little better after her nap but she was still not her normal self.