"Well, we'll just go as far as that grove of small trees that we found the other day, and no farther," said Helen, who naturally—being hostess—had her 'say' about it.
As yet there was no real sign of danger. At least, in the woods the girls had no means of apprehending the approach of the shroud of thick snow that was sweeping out of the northwest. They could not see far about them through the aisles of the wood.
Laughing and joking, the jolly party reached the spot of which Helen had spoken. They set to work there in good earnest to fill their bags with the pungent new growth of the trees, whose bending branches were easily within their reach.
"How this soft snow does clog the snowshoes," complained Belle Tingley, removing the racquettes to knock them free.
"But the flakes are smaller now," said Ruth. "See, girls! it's coming faster and finer. I believe we shall have to hurry back, Helen."
"Ruth is right," added Madge Steele, who, as the oldest of the party, should have used her authority before this. "Why! it's coming in a perfect sheet."
"Sheet!" repeated Jennie Stone, with scorn. "Call it rather a blanket. And a thick one."
"B-r-r-r! How cold it's grown!" cried Lluella.
