flakes, and watched the drift against the window slowly mount up until it half shut out the outer world, while the wind blew more and more furiously. At length she put down her book.
“Fred,” said she, “this isn’t doing either of us any good to-day. Suppose we leave it, and go to see what mother is doing?”
“Is it still snowing?” asked the boy.
“Snowing! I should think it was; faster than ever. And such a large drift by the window! Come over here, and I’ll show you how high it is.” And she laid Fred’s hand on the window, at the top line of the drift.
“It must be awfully deep. Wish I could see it, or else not hear it quite so much. I’m sick of such a racket.” And Fred drew a long, tired breath, as he dropped back into his chair.
“You stay here and toast yourself, and I will go out and see how things are.”
Bess found her mother looking anxious enough over the storm. It was eleven o’clock, and no meat-man, no grocer’s boy, and no milk. The fires needed constant attention, and Bridget, absorbed in her washing, was unwilling to be called on for help.
