A Pair of Mittens
Already the wind had piled up great snowdrifts on the road. At first
the Brownies laughed and shouted as they climbed through them.
“This is just like scaling a mountain!” shrieked Veve as she plunged
from one huge mound to another. “It takes your breath though.”
Actually, the wind was at the girls’ backs, bowling them along and
making walking fairly easy.
“It will be a different matter coming home,” Miss Gordon warned. “Then
we must face the wind. Fortunately, we haven’t far to go.”
The girls took turns carrying the sled and the packages. They were
surprised how quickly their fingers became numb through their mittens
and gloves.
“Slap your hands together,” Miss Gordon advised. “That will keep them
warm.”
Snow fell steadily in large flakes, dusting the girls from head to
foot. Their eyelashes caked over.
By the time they reached the Stone cabin, Miss Gordon and her Brownies
looked like a troop of walking snowmen.
As the girls rapped on the door, Mrs. Stone, who had seen them trailing
through the yard, quickly opened it. A tall, thin woman, she wore a
faded blue gingham dress.
Now the arrival of so many persons at one time astonished her, but
she was too polite to show it. She was under the impression that the
Brownies were on their way to the Gordon farm and had stopped to warm
themselves.
“Come in! Come in!” she invited cordially. “You must be half frozen.”
The girls were grateful for the warmth of the stove. However, as they
glanced around, they saw that the kitchen was almost bare of furniture.
“We’ve brought the children something for Christmas,” said Miss Gordon,
brushing snow from her cap. “It was entirely the Brownies’ idea.”
“Here’s a new sled,” said Connie, depositing it by the tree.
Barbara, Betty and Benny, who had been staring at the Brownies, let out
a whoop of joy. They rushed to examine the sled, gleefully dragging it
over the bare kitchen floor.
“May we try it out on the hill now?” Barbara asked her mother. “It’s
such a dandy sled.”
“Not right now,” said Mrs. Stone regretfully. “The storm is getting
much worse. I’m afraid it may prove to be a regular blizzard.”
“Here’s something else we brought,” said Eileen, offering the stocking
dolls.
“And some cookies we made,” added Rosemary, giving the box to Mrs.
Stone.
The children’s eyes brightened at sight of the dolls, but the cookies
seemed to please them even more.
“May we each have one now?” Betty pleaded. “It’s been ages since we’ve
had anything good to eat!”
Mrs. Stone gave each of the children a chocolate brownie. The cookies
disappeared almost in one bite. When the girls saw how hungry the Stone
youngsters were, they were sorry they had not brought more food.
“Mrs. Stone, if you have no objection, we’ll bring you a goose or a
turkey for your Christmas dinner,” Miss Gordon offered impulsively.
“Grandmother Gordon has a large flock.”
At mention of Mrs. Gordon’s name a very queer expression came over Mrs.
Stone’s face.
“Are--are you sure--” she began, and then finished quickly: “We’ll be
most grateful, Miss Gordon. My husband hasn’t worked for several weeks,
and he’s had bad luck with his traps. Except for your generosity, the
children would have had no Christmas.”
“We’ll be back,” Miss Gordon assured her. “Now we must run along, for
the snow is coming down faster by the minute.”
Mrs. Stone did not urge the Brownies to remain, for she too was alarmed
by the increasing intensity of the storm.
Trooping out of the warm cabin, the girls were met by a blast of
sub-zero wind which nearly swept them from their feet.
“O-o-oh!” squealed Veve. “This is awful! It’s a lot worse than it was!”
“The wind has risen a little,” Miss Gordon admitted, “and we must face
it all the way to the farm. Duck your heads into your mufflers and
follow me single file.”
By going ahead, Miss Gordon broke the wind for the girls, making it
easier for them to walk. However, the trail they had made only a few
minutes before from the roadway to the Stone cabin, already had been
swept away. They had to weave in and out to avoid the larger drifts.
“Wait!” cried Veve just as the girls reached the road.
Everyone paused, wondering why she had called out.
“I’ve lost my mittens!” Veve informed the group. “I--I guess I left
than on the table in Mrs. Stone’s kitchen.”
“The little kitten has lost its mitten,” mocked Jane. Snow was biting
into her face, making her out of sorts.
“I--I didn’t notice about the mittens because I had my hands in my
pockets when we left the house,” Veve mumbled. “Now my hands are simply
freezing. I’ll run back and get them.”
“We’ll freeze solid if we stand here and wait!” grumbled Jane. “Can’t
you go without your old mittens?”
“No. Veve will need them before we get home,” Miss Gordon said before
the little girl could reply.
“I’ll go back with her,” Connie offered quickly. “It won’t take long.
The rest of you walk on and we’ll catch up.”
“I don’t like to separate in this storm,” said Miss Gordon. “But then,
you can’t mistake the way if you keep to the road. We’ll walk slowly
until you catch up.”
With the wind to their backs again, Connie and Veve made a fast trip
to the Stone cabin. The mittens were on the kitchen table just where
Veve had dropped them.
On their way once more, it seemed to the two girls, that the storm was
the worst one of their experience. With Miss Gordon and the others not
there to break the wind, it hurled itself full force against them.
“I can’t see anything!” Connie cried as the snow pelted and stung her
face.
“Neither can I,” screamed Veve above the howl of the wind. “Where are
the Brownies?”
The girls could not see anyone ahead--only a slanting, blinding wall of
driven snow. Even the road was blotted from view though they knew where
it was situated.
“Come on!” gasped Connie. “We’ll catch up if we hurry.”
Haste however, was impossible. The wind snatched their breath and
tore at their clothing. Once Connie plunged through a large drift up
to her shoulders. Snow went down her neck, making her colder and more
uncomfortable than ever.
“Where is the road?” she demanded. “Oughtn’t we to have come to it
before this?”
“I think I see it over there,” said Veve, pointing to the left.
“But our road was to the right. Or am I mixed up? Oh, dear!”
“It’s a road,” insisted Veve.
The girls struggled on, and soon reached the narrow thoroughfare, lined
on either side by an arching wall of frozen bushes.
“I can’t see the Brownies,” said Connie anxiously.
“That’s because the snow is coming down so fast, Connie. They can’t be
very far ahead. Let’s run and maybe we’ll catch up.”
At a dog-trot, the pair started down the winding road. Before they had
gone very far they had to slow down to a walk again. By now their hands
and faces tingled with cold and their ears were beginning to hurt. It
was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
“Does it seem to you we’re going the right direction?” Connie asked
after a while. “What if we turned the wrong way when we left the Stone
cabin?”
Veve had been worried about the same thing, but had not wanted to admit
it.
“This must be right,” she argued. “Miss Gordon said we couldn’t lose
our way if we followed the road.”
“But it doesn’t look like the same road. We’re climbing as if we were
starting up a hill!”
“Didn’t we come down one on our way to the Stone cabin?” Veve asked in
a frightened voice.
“Not that I remember. This road is so narrow too. The one we followed
was wide enough for cars to pass easily.”
“Maybe we went the wrong direction after we reached the road, Connie.”
Connie stopped and reached for Veve’s mittened hand. “It’s worse than
that,” she said. “This isn’t the same road.”
“But it _has_ to be,” wailed Veve, ducking behind her friend to escape
the harsh wind.
“There was another road a long ways off from the Stone cottage,”
Connie said, thinking hard. “I remember noticing it that first day we
went past there. It was just a side road and I think led close to Mr.
Jeffert’s evergreen farm.”
“If we could get there, we could find our way,” Veve said hopefully.
“Or should we start back to the Stone cabin and ask Mrs. Stone how to
get home?”
“I’m not even sure we could find the cabin now,” Connie admitted. “This
hateful snow hides everything.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Let’s keep on a little ways farther and see if the road leads to Mr.
Jeffert’s farm.”
On the girls trudged, becoming more discouraged by the minute.
“Listen!” cried Connie suddenly.
From up the hill, they heard the muffled roar of a motor. A truck was
bearing toward them.
“Someone’s coming!” Veve shouted. “Let’s ask for a ride, or at least
find out how to get to the Gordon farm.”
Stepping to the side of the road, but not so far away that they would
not be seen, the girls waited for the truck to draw near. Soon it
loomed up through the wall of blinding snow.
The truck was carrying a load of freshly cut evergreens.
“Yell, or he won’t stop!” Connie directed.
Both girls moved out into the road, waving their arms, and yelling for
the truck driver to pick them up. He did apply brakes, and peer briefly
at them from the cab. Then he drove past.
“Oh, how mean!” cried Veve, staring after the disappearing truck. “He
saw us, and deliberately wouldn’t stop!”
“It was Felix Gossart too,” added Connie, who had seen his face quite
clearly for an instant. “He had a load of evergreens. I wonder--maybe
they were Mr. Jeffert’s trees!”
“Trees he stole?”
“Mr. Jeffert went to Goshen with Grandfather Gordon,” said Connie,
thinking aloud. “It would be a good chance for someone to take the
trees. Only of course we don’t know that Mr. Gossart would do such a
thing.”
“He’s mean or he would have picked us up,” Veve insisted. She shook
snow from her hood and huddled close to her friend. “Oh, Connie, I’m
cold and we’re lost! What are we going to do now?”