"I would have put it plainer," says Frank, laughing, "and said `Spin a
yarn.'"
At another time, I might have been inclined to attach some semi-comical
signification to the picture Maggie May held coaxingly out to me.
It represented a wide unbroken field of dazzling snow, with the outlines
of a pine-wood in the far distance. There were two dark and ugly
figures in the centre of the snow-field--an ugly fierce-like boar and a
gaunt and hungry, howling wolf. You could see he was howling.
But with the rising wind beginning to moan drearily round our house, and
the icicle-laden rose-twigs rattling every now and again against the
glass, I could see nothing amusing in Maggie May's little picture.
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