LOST IN THE STORM
Of course the twins were wild to go, too; but even if Dot had not had a
cold, the walk would have been much too long for them. Aunt Polly
promised to help them make molasses candy that afternoon, and that
cheered them up somewhat.
"Now if it snows between now and the time school is out, come home
without going to Mrs. Anson's," said Mother Blossom, following Meg and
Bobby to the door. "It gets dark early you know, and you mustn't be
out alone in that deserted section in a storm or after dark. Remember,
won't you, Bobby?"
"Yes'm," answered Bobby, squinting knowingly at the sky as he had seen
Sam do. "It isn't going to snow, Mother. Make Dot and Twaddles save
us some candy, will you?"
"Course we will," called the twins, who had followed Mother Blossom.
"A whole plateful, Bobby."
"I hope it doesn't snow," said Meg, trotting along beside Bobby, her
hands deep in Mother's soft, furry muff. "Got the hand-stove, Bobby?"
"Yes. But it isn't lit," her brother said. "I'm not going to burn it
for this little walk. Hurry, or we'll be late."
They reached the school house just as the first bell rang, and all that
afternoon first Meg, then Bobby, would glance at the windows, fearful
lest they see the whirling white flakes that would mean they could not
go after the eggs. But three o'clock came and still no snow.
"I said it wouldn't!" announced Bobby triumphantly, meeting Meg at the
door, for he had had to go down to the cellar and borrow a match from
the janitor to light the little charcoal stove Mother Blossom had given
him to carry in his pocket.
"Feel how warm." Bobby held out the stove for Meg to hold in her hand.
"John had to light it for me, 'cause he was afraid I'd set myself on
fire. Silly! I guess I've lit matches before!"
As a matter of fact, Bobby had had very little to do with matches
unless an older person was about, but he did not like the janitor to
think he never had matches in his pocket.
Bobby had their skates over his arm, and the two children hurried down
to the pond. Already a number of skaters were out, and the ice was in
perfect condition. Bobby helped Meg buckle on her skates and then in a
few minutes he had adjusted his own, and they set off.
"Next year, maybe, we can have real hockey skates," said Meg. "The
twins are going to have double runners. But we've had fun on these,
haven't we?"
Bobby looked at his sister. She wore a bright red tam-o'-shanter cap
on her yellow hair, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her
cheeks were rosy above the dark fur collar of her coat, and even if she
was his sister, Bobby had to admit that she was very pretty.
"Sure we've had fun on these skates," he agreed heartily. "You skate
fine now, Meg, honest you do."
Meg was pleased, as what little sister would not be?
"Well I'm glad I learned," she answered. "What's that over there,
Bobby?"
She pointed to something fluttering from a bush on the other side of
the pond.
"Let's go and look," said Bobby. And then, as they came up to it, he
said: "Oh, it's an old skating cap. Guess some one lost it and they've
hung it there so he'll see it."
At the head of the pond they came to the creek. This, too, was frozen
over solidly, and, joining hands, Meg and Bobby began to follow its
winding way.
"'Member how it looks in the summer time?" asked Meg. "These bushes
meet across it then."
Great high banks of snow rose on either side of the creek, and when
they reached the twin oaks, so called because the two trees had grown
together to form one trunk, where they must turn off to reach Mrs.
Anson's house, Meg and Bobby had trouble finding a foothold.
They took off their skates and managed to scramble up the bank,
however, and then found themselves in a field of snow, unbroken save
for a few little dots and dashes that they recognized as rabbit tracks.
"They don't clean off their walks, do they?" giggled Meg. "How do you
tell where Mrs. Anson's house is?"
"See the chicken wire sticking up?" replied Bobby. "And there's smoke
coming out of her chimney."
Sure enough, at a distance across the field the children could see
rough posts sticking up which they knew were part of the chicken-yard
fence. Soft, black smoke was coming out of a chimney, too, and
drifting against the sky.
Walking single file, and glad of their rubber boots, the two children
tramped over the field and came presently to the shabby, lonesome
little house where Mrs. Anson lived.
"My land!" she cried when she saw them. "I was just thinking about
your Ma this morning. My man's been away all week cutting wood, or I'd
have sent him down with some eggs. I suppose you want two dozen and a
half, Bobby?"
While Mrs. Anson bustled about packing the eggs in a neat box, the
children warmed their hands and drank the hot cocoa she had ready for
them.
"Made it for my man, but he sent word he won't be back till to-morrow
morning," she explained. "There's your eggs, now, and you'd better
hurry. We're going to have more snow to-night."
Mrs. Anson spent half her time alone in the lonesome little house, with
three big tabby cats for company and her hundreds of chickens to keep
her busy. She liked to be alone, and she always seemed contented and
happy.
"I don't see why she says it's going to snow," said Bobby to Meg, as
they took the eggs and went out of the narrow gate which creaked
dismally.
Mrs. Anson had gone directly to her chicken yard, and they could see
her feeding her hens and shutting them up for the night, evidently in
great haste.
"Well, I guess she knows," returned Meg doubtfully. "I heard Daddy say
she and Mr. Anson knew more about the weather than most folks, 'cause
they've lived 'way out here so long and watched it. Let's hurry."
As they hurried on suddenly snow flakes began to fall. Gently at
first, then faster and faster, till the children could not see a foot
before them. Meg nearly walked into a tree.
"We won't go home the creek way," said Bobby decidedly. "Come on over
here, Meg, and we'll get down on to the road. It'll be easier walking,
and perhaps some one will give us a ride."
Both Meg and Bobby knew where the road was. They had driven over it
with Sam in the car, and they had walked it many a time in the summer.
Then why it should perversely disappear just at the time when they
needed it most was something neither one was ever able to explain. But
disappear it did--that ill-natured country road completely ran away
from them.
"We've walked awful far," sighed Meg, breathless from fighting against
the wind which blew the snow into their faces so sharply that each
flake stung. "Where do you suppose that road is, Bobby?"
Bobby was carefully carrying the eggs. He had no intention of losing
those.
"I guess we'll find it," he assured his sister cheerfully. "Are your
hands cold, Meg? Here, hold this heater a minute."
Meg's hands in her muff were quite comfortable, and she opened her
mouth to say so to Bobby. But without warning she slipped down out of
sight before she had time to say a word.
"Meg!" shouted Bobby. "Meg! Are you hurt?"
Meg's delighted little laugh bubbled up to him.
"Oh, Bobby," she gurgled. "I guess I've found the road. Look out for
that bank I fell down. I'm sure this is a road. You come and see."
Bobby cautiously scrambled down the bank, over which Meg had slipped,
and joined his sister. Meg was on her feet again, and trying to brush
the snow off her coat and out of her collar.
"It is a road, isn't it?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, it's a road; but it can't be the one near Mrs. Anson's house,"
answered Bobby, puzzled. "We've walked too far. What's that sticking
up?"
It proved to be a signboard, and, giving Meg the eggs to hold, Bobby
tried to reach up high enough to brush the snow off so that they could
read the lettering. The board was far above his head.
"Shinny up," urged Meg. "Or stand on my shoulders."
The pole was too wet for the first, and Bobby did not want to use his
sister for a stepping stone. He finally managed, by jumping up and
flirting his cap across the board at each jump, to knock off enough
snow to enable them to read the letters.
"M-E-R-T-O-N, six miles" spelled Bobby. "R-I-C-E-V-I-L-L-E, four
miles."
Meg looked at him, troubled.
"Where does it say Oak Hill is?" she asked.
"It doesn't say, but we'll find it," said Bobby stoutly, "Come on, Meg,
we'll go the way that's four miles."
Meg had gone some distance down the road before she discovered that she
had left her muff at the sign post. There was nothing to do but to go
back for it. As they came up to it, nearly buried in the snow already,
so fast it was falling, a little rabbit started up and hopped away over
the road in a panic of fear.
"Guess he thought it was another rabbit," commented Bobby.
He walked ahead, carrying the eggs, and Meg followed him closely.
Suddenly he stopped and gave a shout.