(3/20) Storm in the Village Read Online Free PDF

Tuesday when I had visited Beech Green, gave way to clear skies and high winds.
    The children were excited and boisterous, as they always are when the weather is windy. Doors slammed, windows rattled, papers blew from desks, and the gale roared so loudly in the elm trees that border the playground that at times it was difficult to make my voice heard in the classroom.
    On Friday morning the wind reached unprecedented force. The weathercock shuddered at the top of St Patrick's spire, my lawn was scattered with petals torn from the prunus and almond trees, and the gay clumps of crocuses lay battered in the garden beds, like bowed dancers in satin skirts.
    I was busy correcting Eric's arithmetic at his desk at the back of the classroom when the rumbling began. The children looked up in alarm, for the noise was terrifying. I had only just time to realise that it must be a tile slipping down the roof, when, with a deafening crash, it reached the skylight, smashed the glass into a hundred tinkling fragments, and fell thunderously on to my desk below. It was, in fact, a large piece of the curved ridge of the roof, and had I been sitting in my accustomed seat, would doubtless have caused me a trip to Caxley hospital.
    The children were much shaken-and so was I, for that matter. Miss Jackson burst in from the infants' room to see what the trouble was, and stood appalled on the threshold. It was Joseph Coggs who first recovered.
    'Best clear the mess up,' he growled huskily, and set off for the lobby, returning with the dust-pan and broom. I lifted the heavy lump of masonry and staggered with it to the playground, while Miss Jackson wielded the broom, and the children, having recovered from their fright, began to cluster round and thoroughly enjoy this sensational interruption to their peaceful labours.
    Mr Willet, who had been setting out his seed potatoes ready for sprouting, in shallow wooden boxes, in his own quiet kitchen, had somehow been informed of the disaster, by the mysterious bush telegraph which works so well in every village, and had rushed straight to the scene, pulling on his jacket as he pounded up the village street.
    'Accident! Up the school!' he had puffed to curious questioners, without slackening his pace.
    It was not surprising, therefore, to find that Mr Willet was accompanied by four agitated mothers when he arrived, in an advanced state of breathlessness, at the school door.
    'You all right?' he gasped out.
    I assured him that we were all unharmed and indicated the smashed skylight.
    'Lord!' breathed Mr Willet, with awe. 'That's done it!' The four mothers edged round the door, their eyes goggling. I let them feast on the scene before them for a minute, and then decided that it was time for them to depart.
    'No harm done!' I said firmly. 'And now that Mr Willet's here we shall soon clear up the mess!' I shepherded the reluctant quartet towards the lobby.
    'Poor little mites! Might have been struck dead!' said one, with relish.
    'I always said that skylight was a danger!' asserted the next.
    'Tempting Providence to have glass in a roof!' said the third.
    'Proper upset I be!' said the fourth, somewhat smugly. 'And if our Billy has the nightmares, I shan't wonder! Poor little toad, and him so high strung! I've a good mind to take him back home with me!'
    She glanced sidelong at me to see how I would take this display of maternal concern.
    'Take him by all means!' I said. 'But I think you're being very silly. It will only make Billy think he's been in far more danger than he has. We shall all finish our lessons in the infants' room, while the skylight is being seen to.'
    'Maybe that's best,' agreed the woman hastily. It was quite obvious to me, and to the rest of the mothers, that she had no real intention of being burdened with her son's presence for the rest of the day. Now that she had paraded her maternal rights she was quite prepared to give way.
    'Perhaps you'd be good enough to tell the other mothers, if you