fire. Bess was sewing, and Fred was by her side, playing with the long loops of ribbon that hung from her belt. Suddenly the girl rose and went to the window.
“Where are you going, Miss Bess?”
“I am going to run away from you, you obstinate boy. I want to see your mother a minute. I’ll come back, so don’t you worry.”
For Bess had determined on a bold stroke. The air inside the room was warm and heavy with the fragrance of roses. Outside, all was bright and bracing, for air inch or two of snow had fallen the night before, and the air after the storm was clear and sweet. Across the street, two rosy-cheeked urchins were having a grand snowball fight, and Bess only wished that she and Fred could join them. She heard their shouts of laughter as a particularly large snowball struck one of them, just as he was stooping for more ammunition, and half the snow was scattered down his neck.
The next moment she had tapped at Mrs. Allen’s door.
“Come in,” said a languid voice, and in she went.
