Half a dozen boys

by Anna Chapin Ray

"It was lots of fun," Rob confided to Bess that night. "We just flew all ways at once. But it's thawing so fast that we can't try it again soon."

And, in her secret thoughts, Bess was thankful that it was so.

Then came a week when it seemed as if the winter were a thing of the past. The snow melted quickly, and the ground settled so thoroughly that, when Saturday came round again, and it dawned warm and bright, Rob came in and invited Bess to play tennis with him. So through the whole March afternoon they played in the sunshine, while Fred, glad to be out once more, either wandered slowly up and down, or lounged on the lawn seat near them.

"I'll tell you what, cousin Bess," said Rob, as he took down the net, "I'll play an hour Monday noon, if you want to."

"Let me see," said Bess. "I've promised to go to walk with Fred in the afternoon, but I think I can play. Will you have time before school?"

"I'll hurry and eat my dinner, and we can play a little, anyway. Come on, Fred," and they went into the house.

But the next morning was cold and raw, as if to make up for the day before, and by afternoon a few flakes of snow were falling lazily and melting as they fell. When Bess with her little cousin came home from church, she suggested that their game could hardly be played the next noon; but Rob laughed at the idea, and left, her with many assurances that the next day would see him on the spot, racket in hand.

But on Monday morning Bess woke up to find a real old-fashioned snowstorm raging outside. Already the drifts lay high and white, and the fierce gusts of wind swept the snow this way and that, and shook the house until each window and door rattled in its casing. Mr. Carter made his usual early start to his business, and Bess and Fred adjourned to the library, where they were glad to curl up over the register, for the wind seemed to force its way even through the walls. But the lessons went hard that morning. The roaring of the storm made Fred unusually nervous, and Bess caught his mood, as she glanced out occasionally to see the air filled with the hurrying snowflakes, and watched the drift against the window slowly mount up until it half shut out the outer world, while the wind blew more and more furiously. At length she put down her book.

"Fred," said she, "this isn't doing either of us any good to-day. Suppose we leave it, and go to see what mother is doing?"

"Is it still snowing?" asked the boy.