"'Tis monstrous cruel!" retorted Charity, with unwonted spirit. "The snow would smother you, freeze you, kill you, an it could!"
"Why, Charity!" observed Mehitable, her eyes widening. "I never heard you speak thus of the snow before!"
"I do dislike it!" muttered Charity, with another shiver. "I wish it were summer again!"
She started nervously as a shutter banged against the house somewhere.
"Well, I like it," answered Mehitable decidedly, "and I"
Her voice stopped suddenly. Charity, who was counting the stitches in her knitting, glanced up curiously after a while and found her sister staring at something over her shoulder. She turned immediately and at that instant a cold draught struck her. Thereafter, the sand in the quaint hourglass must have run through its tiny hole a full minute before either girl moved. For through the crack of the door two eyes were looking at them!
Then Mehitable, whose natural courage never long forsook her, recovered from her fright and strode forward indignantly to fling the door open.
"Why do you not knock or come in?" she demanded irritably.
The Indian who had been standing outside stepped across the threshold with unruffled dignity and looked around the room inquiringly.
"Father?" he asked.
"Father out foddering stock, I suppose,"
