"honestly," began lillian, "you would think they were--" the heavens opened
up and the rain came down in giant drops as though some celestial dam had
suddenly burst. the top of their car was pounded with a hundred drum sticks,
and halfway to their front door the sakkaros stopped and looked despairingly
upward. their faces blurred as the rain hit; blurred and shrank and ran together.
all three shriveled, collapsing within their clothes, which sank down into three
sticky-wet heaps. and while the wrights sat there, transfixed with horror, lillian
found herself unable to stop the completion of her remark: "--made of sugar
and afraid they would melt."