He came in and set down the basket, took off his cap and overcoat and looked down at the two little girls with a smile.
“This is Nettie Black,” Edna told him. “She has been so nice to me, and I don’t know what would have happened if I had not been able to get to her house.”
“Don’t speak of it,” returned Ben with a little frown and a shake of his head. “I’ll sit down and warm myself and then you can tell me how this all happened.”
He drew up to the fire, took Edna on his knee and she poured forth her tale. “Pretty tough,” he said when she had completed her story. “I’m glad your mother didn’t know you had started. Now, Miss Nettie if you will let me sleep on that big sofa I am going to stay right here till we can dig you out and your mother comes. There’s a lot of provender in that basket and we’ll be as jolly as they make ’em.”
“Oh, but you can sleep upstairs,” returned Nettie. “There is plenty of room.”
“Good! Then upstairs be it. What was that about hens and eggs and things, Ande?”
“Oh, we can’t get out to the hen-house, you know. We tried to make a path but it was too hard work for us so we gave it up.”
“I should remark. Well, that will be done first thing in the morning, and I’ll go see what I can find. Eggsactly, as it were. What about the fires? Any coal up here?”
“A little,” Nettie told him. “We have carried up all we could at a time, but we couldn’t bring enough for the fires to-night. We are going down to get more.”
“You are going to do no such thing. Got a candle? Where are the coal scuttles? One of you hold the light and show me your coal bin and up comes your coal.” Cousin Ben was already making for the cellar door.