"Oh, dreadful snows that do not go off all winter, and it seems so queer not to have any here. It was such fun to snowball and have sled-rides and build snowhouses."
"You didn't live in them?" in surprise.
"Oh, no! But sometimes we brought in dry hemlock branches and brush, and had a fire. It looks so pretty."
"Didn't it melt the house?"
"Oh, yes, a little. But you see it froze again."
"Which do you like best—there or here?"
"Oh, this is the most beautiful, for there are so many flowers and lovely places. And—I think I like the pleasant weather best."
"How many cousins have you?"
"None," answered Laverne rather regretfully.
"Oh, isn't that queer? I have four over to Oaklands. And two in London. And one of father's sisters married a Mexican, and lives way down to Santa Barbara. They have ever so many children with queer names. Aunt Amy died a little while ago, and as she hadn't any children, she left some money to us and the Oakland cousins. But not to have any——"