Danny Dunn and the Weather Machine Read Online Free PDF

clearly. They just missed the lemonade pitcher, going over it and focusing on a spot above the soup pot on the stove.
    â€œHold on,” Danny said. “Don’t try shifting the machine. I’ll just put a couple of cookbooks under the pitcher.”
    He went to the shelf and got down two books of recipes. He was just about to bring them to the table when from both Irene and Joe there burst simultaneous wild cries:
    â€œHey!”
    â€œYipes!”
    Danny froze as if the cold ray were hitting him. Over the soup kettle a cloud was forming, no larger than a sofa cushion but unmistakably a cloud. Its top was piled into anvil-shaped thunderheads; below, it was dark gray.
    â€œWhat—?” Danny choked.
    The cloud boiled up, grew thicker and darker. From it there came a tiny rumble of thunder, like the growl of a small dog, but genuine thunder nevertheless. A little bolt of lightning lanced down from the cloud and struck the soup kettle with a hiss. Then, suddenly, it began to rain furiously over the stove.
    The three friends stood staring, unable to move a muscle. The rain filled the soup pot and overflowed its edge. The gas flame went out, and water poured down onto the floor.
    Then Danny came to his senses. He sprang to the stove and turned off the gas. “Joe!” he yelled. “Stop the machine! Open the switch! Quick, before we’re flooded out!”
    â€œBut-but-but,” Joe stuttered.
    Irene jumped forward and pulled the switch open. The rays vanished. A moment later, the cloud was gone.
    â€œHow—?” Irene began.
    She got no further. Mrs. Dunn opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen. She stared at the three young people, then at the stove and the great puddle of water on the floor.
    â€œDanny!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing?”
    Danny’s face was bright crimson. “Gee, Mom,” he said, and gulped. “Gee. I’m sorry. We couldn’t help it. It—it—it rained in the soup!”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Good Old IT
    Mrs. Dunn’s eyebrows slowly rose. Then she felt Danny’s forehead.
    â€œYou don’t seem to have a fever,” she murmured.
    â€œI haven’t, Mom. It was just that—”
    Mrs. Dunn shook her head. “Danny, surely you must realize that experiments belong in the laboratory, not in the kitchen.”
    â€œI do, Mom. But we—”
    â€œAnd look at my soup! Good heavens, surely you’re old enough not to play with food? Adding water to soup only thins it. I could have told you that.”
    â€œI know, Mom. But I—”
    â€œIt’s ruined!” Mrs. Dunn began to look angry. “Irene, I’m surprised at you, letting these boys spoil good soup.”
    â€œBut I didn’t—” Irene began.
    â€œAnd my nice, clean floor, covered with water. Haven’t you children any sense? Wasting water in this dry weather!”
    â€œBut, Mom!” Danny said. “Honestly, we—”
    â€œDon’t you ‘honestly’ me, young man. And what’s this box? A radio? No, don’t tell me. Whatever it is, get it out of my kitchen. And you get the mop, Dan, and clean up this mess.”
    In moments, she had whirled them about, thrust a mop into Danny’s hands, a sponge into Irene’s, a pail into Joe’s. The three friends looked sadly at one another, and began the job of drying the floor and the stove, while Mrs. Dunn, still grumbling crossly, did what she could to salvage the watery soup. When they were all done, and the kitchen was more or less restored to order, Joe and Irene lugged the machine back to the laboratory, with Danny behind them, hugging something to his breast.
    â€œI got away with the pitcher of lemonade,” he said, once they were safely in the lab. “It’s not cold, but it’s comforting.”
    â€œI need comfort,” Joe groaned. “Oh, my aching back. I knew there’d be trouble. I