Suddenly the rain of Aunt Jamesina’s prophecy came with a swish and rush. Anne put up her umbrella and hurried down the slope. As she turned out on the harbor road a savage gust of wind tore along it. Instantly her umbrella turned wrong side out Anne clutched at it in despair. And then—there came a voice close to her:
“Pardon me—may I offer you the shelter of my umbrella?”