“Gee, I missed that next step,” he said, with perfect good humor, rising and brushing himself off. “Here comes Polly.”
Polly and the Larues joined the others, and, running and laughing, they began the walk to school. The flying flakes stung their eyes and melted on their faces, and it was fun to make snowballs and hurl them at the fences and trees they passed and, yes, at each other.
“We’ll go coasting this afternoon, sure,” said Fred, as they reached the school-yard gate.
Home they raced at the close of the afternoon session to get out the sleds hidden in attic and cellar since the winter before.
The boys had each a sled, and Polly and Jess had their own, but Margy preferred to claim a share in Fred’s long racer. She could never be induced to go down the hill alone, and most of the time she coasted with Polly.
“Everybody’s here,” said Ward, cheerfully, when they reached Pond’s Hill, a beautiful slope on the other side of town.
It was still snowing fitfully, but the flakes were larger, an indication that the storm was beginning to let up. Artie and Ward wished it would snow for a week, but the older folk thought that a day and a night should satisfy any one.
“There’s Carrie Pepper,” whispered Polly to Margy.
“And Mattie Helms,” added Jess.
“And Joe Anderson,” said Artie. “He has a new sled.”