There stood Hal, in the midst of his little corn field, out in the
pelting rain and hail, holding the biggest umbrella over as many of the
stalks of corn as he could shelter. And Hal himself was dripping wet for
the rain blew under the umbrella.
"What are you doing?" cried Mr. Blake.
"Keeping the hail off my corn," answered Hal. "You said the hail stones
would tear the green leaves all to pieces and I don't want it to. Can't
Mab come out and hold an umbrella, too? You've got one, Daddy, so you can
help."
Mr. Blake wanted to laugh but he did not like to hurt Hal's feelings.
Besides he was a little worried lest Hal take cold in the pelting storm.
So he said:
"You must come in, Hal. Holding an umbrella over your corn would only save
one hill from the hail and saving that one hill would not make up for you
getting ill. We shall have to let the storm do its worst, and trust that
not all the corn will be spoiled."
"Is that what the farmers do?" asked Hal, making his way between the rows
of corn toward his father.
"Yes. They can't stop the hail and they can't cover the corn. Sometimes it
doesn't do a great deal of damage, even though it tears many of the green
leaves.
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