ぎくしゃくしていた恋

We want a basket again, don’t we? Don’t we want to go up tomorrow? Well, we can’t lose all your aunt’s baskets and expect her to pack grub stakes for us, can we?” Jim answered.
“That’s so. We better get her a couple,” Bob agreed quickly. He consulted the map. “St. John’s is the nearest,” he announced, so gravely he turned Her Highness’ nose in the direction of the town, because, when the matter was put to him that way, he could see the need of keeping Mrs. Fenton supplied with baskets　.
VIII ABLAZE
For the next three days after the boys’ exploit in Canada, it rained. Not gentle showers, but a good stiff down-pour that drenched the land, swelled the Lake, and ruined young crops. Her Highness was kept in the carriage shed under the tool house, because besides raining as if it were never going to stop, there was thunder and lightning, and hours of pitch blackness. Both Jim and Bob would have liked nothing better than to go soaring up and battle with the elements but they knew that such an adventure would cause Mrs. Fenton terrific worry every moment they were out of her sight, so they contented themselves with the radio, phonograph, some jolly old books they found in the attic, and swims between storms. Several times they caught glimpses of the strange boy as he went splashing by to and from the garden, and they watched his run-off with considerable interest.
“If he keeps the water down on that hole land it will save the alfalfa meadow,” Mr. Fenton remarked thoughtfully.
“Does he seem to be doing it, Uncle Norman?”
“So far the water isn’t any higher.”
“Jinks, that’s great,” Jim exclaimed with enthusiasm. He rather envied Corso’s young nephew who disregarded weather and waded barefoot along the road, his overalls rolled above his knees, and not even a splattering automobile racing past him, sending sheets of water from all four wheels, seemed to disturb him　..

The morning of the fourth day broke clear and fine, the sky velvet blue, and not a cloud in sight. The step-brothers came down stairs with joyous whoops, and young Caldwell danced his aunt about the kitchen.
“Well, my land, if you want me to dance with you Bob, you will have to make it a reel or a jig—”
“Let it be a jig,” Bob answered her hand he began the clattery dance while Jim played an accompaniment on the mouth organ. But in a few minutes Mrs. Fenton had to stop for breath.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she demanded. “I never supposed that any young one could do it these days.”
“In school,” Bob answered. “You ought to see Jim Highland Fling.”
“What’s all the shouting about?” Mr. Fenton asked. He had just come in with the brimming milk pails.
“Look at the weather,” Jim laughed　.
“It’s enough to make an airplane do a tail spin,” Bob added.
“No doubt, but I hope Her Highness doesn’t do any more—”
“More?” The boys chorused.
“Canadian chap telephoned me yesterday to inquire if you live here, and he said that you two had made the country safe for the Mounted Police—”
“Aw, go on,” Bob exclaimed in disgust.
“What did they do that for?” demanded Jim.