“Isn’t it pretty!” cried Polly, in delight.
“It won’t be so pretty to walk home,” said Ward, who joined them.
“Are you children up?” called Mrs. Wicks. “I wish one of you girls would help me get dressed. My knee isn’t any worse, but then it isn’t any better.”
“I’ll help her,” offered Margy, hastily. “You build the fire, Fred, because it’s freezing cold in this kitchen.”
Fred and Artie went out to get more wood, for Fred suggested that they leave the woodbox untouched, and Margy went to help the old woman get dressed.
By the time she was ready, the kitchen was warm and Polly and Jess set the breakfast table, while Mrs. Wicks stirred up griddle cakes and showed them how to make oatmeal.
“The man on the next farm always brings me milk,” the old lady explained, “and it shows how deep the snow must be, if he can’t get here. It’s lucky I have some milk left from yesterday.”
They had a cheerful breakfast, and when it was over Polly asked if there wasn’t something they could do to help.
“We can’t walk home through the snow while it is as deep as this,” she said sensibly, “and perhaps we can help you, if you’ll tell us how. What would you do if you weren’t lame this morning?”
“I’d feed my chickens and shovel some paths around the house and down to the mail-box,” said Mrs. Wicks, promptly. “Then I’d sit down and sew.”