“Yes, it is hard work,” agreed Nettie, “but we did it all ourselves, and the potatoes are really done and the rice looks all right.”
“It looks fine,” said Edna, “and so do the eggs. I don’t mind their being broken a little; I don’t see how you could dish them up without.”
They had been so long in preparing the meal that they were quite starved and ate with a relish. “I’m glad there is more rice,” said Nettie, “for now that I know what a little it takes to make a big dish I shan’t be afraid of our starving while it lasts.”
“Oh, dear,” Edna put down her spoon, “you don’t think we shall have to stay here alone for days, do you? The snow will have to melt after a while and the roads be cleared.”
“It doesn’t look much like it yet,” returned Nettie.
“Oh, but it never, never, never could keep on like this.” Edna was determined to be hopeful. “I’m going to believe someone will come this very afternoon, either your mother or somebody.”
Her faith was not without foundation for along in the middle of the afternoon they heard jangling bells, and ran to the front window to see the milkman in a huge sleigh, his milk cans in the body of it. He plowed his way to the front door which was opened to him before he could knock.
“Oh, Mr. Snyder,” said Nettie, “I am so glad you have come. We are all alone and we haven’t a drop of milk.”
“That so?” said Mr. Snyder. “I thought as much. It’s pretty hard travelling and I’ve been hours getting around to my customers, but now the road is broken it won’t be quite so hard getting back. I’d better leave you double quantity in case I’m late to-morrow.”
“Oh, you are our milkman, too, aren’t you?” said Edna. “You leave milk at Mrs. Conway’s, don’t you?”