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Then, suddenly as it had come, the storm passed, trailing dark, yellow-gray, ragged clouds in its wake. The light came back and the awed girls at the little window saw below them in the emerald meadows, wide ugly yellow splotches that grew as they looked, meeting other growing patches of swirling yellow water from the lanes and roads. Trees showed fresh wounds and masses of broken branches clotted the discolored waters of the brook. Birds called excitedly and flew exultantly about in the limpid air. The sun flung gay greens and golds. The storm was past., "There you have it," cried Arkel, with a nod. "The wound at the back of the head was caused by his falling like a log when he was drugged.", "Mercy, Judy, where did you drop from?" asked Patricia, startled. "I didn't expect you for an hour. Is Elinor home, too?".