“Gee, isn’t it cold!” cried Artie as he and Polly started for school.
They met Jess and Ward and the Williamson twins—as usual—and the bitter cold wind that stung their faces came straight from the river.
“I read where a man said this is going to be the coldest winter we’ve ever had,” related Artie, opening and closing his fingers rapidly in their woolen gloves to keep the blood circulating.
“Well, it’s cold enough right now,” declared Ward. “Of course, I like snow and skating, but I’d rather have the mornings nice and warm.”
Fred laughed.
“You’d fix it up so we’d go to school with steam-heated overcoats and shoes, wouldn’t you, Ward?” he teased. “And then, the moment school closed, you’d have a nice glassy hill back right up to the door with a sled on top ready to take you coasting.”
Ward admitted that he had something like that in mind.
“What are you thinking about, Polly?” asked Margy, curiously. “You haven’t said a word for the last five minutes.”
“I’m wondering what we are going to do about the clubroom,” answered Polly. “To-morrow it’s going to be as cold as ice in the barn. We haven’t done a thing about heating it, either, except talk about it.”
“There’s no reason why we shouldn’t have an oil stove,” declared Fred, positively. “That won’t cost much, and we can take turns filling it.”