The wind was whistling round the house and shaking at the door, The sky was dull, the snowy fields lay level as a floor; I ‘d tired of my fairy book, and Dot began to fret;— “These stupid winter days,” I yawned, “I wish the sun would set!” Then Nancy Joyce came running in, her cheeks like roses red, “I ‘ve found the finest coast and slide! You must come out,” she said; “And Billy ’s skating on the pond, and says he ‘ll pull the sled, Or that he ‘ll come and help us build a big snow house, instead!” We hurried into coats and hats, so Nancy need not wait, And, laughing, hand in hand we flew down to the garden gate. How bright the dull day seemed to grow! Or was it just the voice And happy ways, that made the change, of jolly Nancy Joyce?
