... the two umbrellas. The rain was pounding down through the gooseberry screen now and the carpet was decidedly damp on the edges. Little streams of water ran down the furrows in the garden about them. They had eaten all the cookies but one, which got wet and dissolved in a gluey paste. Katy read away valiantly but the story didn't seem as absorbing as it had been the night before—the children found ... — Chicken Little Jane • Lily Munsell Ritchie
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