"I guess you better slip right down under the blankets," she advised.
The wind blew gray out of the north--a wild blast which stopped the
young student's blood in his veins. He hated to give up, but he could no
longer hold the blankets over his knees, so he slipped down into the
corner of the box, with his back to the wind, while Mattie drew the
blankets over his head, slapped the reins down on the backs of the
snorting horses, and encouraged them with shouts like a man: "Get out o'
this, Dan! Hup there, Nellie!"
The wagon boomed and rattled. The floor of the box seemed beaten with a
maul. The glimpses Wallace had of the land appalled him, it was so flat
and gray and bare.
Herman sang at the top of his voice, and danced, and pounded his feet
against the wagon box. "This ends it! If I can't come home without
freezing to death, I don't come. I should have hired a rig, irrespective
of you--"
The girl laughed. "Oh, you're getting thin-blooded, Herman. Life in the
city has taken the starch all out of you."
"Better grow limp in a great city than freeze stiff in the country," he
replied.
An hour's ride brought them into a yard before a large, gray-white frame
house.
Herman sprang out to meet a tall old man with head muffled up. "Hello,
Dad! Take the team. We're just naturally froze solid--at least, I am.
This is Mr. Stacey, the new teacher."
"How de do? Run in; I'll take the horses."
Herman and Wallace stumbled toward the house, stiff and bent.
Herman flung his arms about a tall woman in the kitchen door. "Hello,
muz!" he said. "This is Mr. Stacey, the new teacher."
Mattie came in soon with a boyish rush, gleeful as a happy babe. She
unwound the scarf from her head and neck, and hung up her cap and cloak
like a man, but she gave her hair a little touch of feminine care, and
came forward with both palms pressed to her burning cheeks.
"Did you suffer, child?" asked Mrs. Allen.
"No; I enjoyed it."