The old lady had filled the bottom of the sleigh with hot bricks, wrapped in burlap. They were as good as stoves, the children declared.
“No, Mrs. Wicks isn’t poor—not what we call poor,” answered Mr. Marley, who was driving. “She has money enough to live on and owns her house, she tells me. But she is lonely, and sometimes people need friends more than they need money.”
The dazzling sunshine made the fields and laden trees very beautiful to see, but there was a cold wind, and the snow seemed to have melted very little. For some distance the traveling was fairly good, for the postman’s sleigh had broken the road, but when they turned into another road, unbroken drifts confronted them.
“This ought to save us a mile, so I think it’s worth trying,” said Mr. Marley, as the horse began to flounder. “The way we came was the longer, but we were following the river to find the children.”
Old Tom didn’t care if the road was a shorter one. He didn’t like the big drifts, and he saw no reason why he should pretend he did. He shook his head and snorted and finally stood still.
“We’ll have to get out and encourage him,” said Mr. Larue, cheerfully. “You stay in, Marley, and the boys and I will show old Tom how easy it is to wade through snow, if you make up your mind it can be done.”
Mr. Larue got out and the six chums tumbled after him. The girls begged to help, too, for they were cramped from sitting under the robes. The sleigh was pretty well filled when they were all in it.
“Gee, it is deep, isn’t it!” exclaimed Artie, as he went in to his waist. “But look at that bare spot, over there on the field!”
“That’s what the wind did,” Mr. Larue explained. “It blew all the drifts over into this road and left the fields lightly covered.”
“Why don’t we drive over the fields then?” asked Fred.