"Snowing! I should think it was; faster than ever. And such a large drift by the window! Come over here, and I'll show you how high it is." And she laid Fred's hand on the window, at the top line of the drift.
"It must be awfully deep. Wish I could see it, or else not hear it quite so much. I'm sick of such a racket." And Fred drew a long, tired breath, as he dropped back into his chair.
"You stay here and toast yourself, and I will go out and see how things are."
Bess found her mother looking anxious enough over the storm. It was eleven o'clock, and no meat-man, no grocer's boy, and no milk. The fires needed constant attention, and Bridget, absorbed in her washing, was unwilling to be called on for help.
"Never mind, mother," said Bess consolingly. "I'm a splendid fireman, and I will see to the furnace to-day. And don't worry about the dinner. We'll manage without meat and milk. Let's see, we have some codfish, I know, and we will make coffee by the gallon, if necessary. I pity people who have no water in their houses. But I am afraid father will have a severe time getting home. The snow must be very deep."
She opened the door to look out, but was greeted by a small avalanche of snow that came tumbling in upon her.
"Two feet on a level, I should think," she announced, with an apparent unconsciousness of the wrathful countenance of Bridget, who stalked to the broom, and swept out the snow.
"Where is Fred?" asked Mrs. Carter.
"In the library. He is so nervous with the storm that I found he was getting no good from the lessons, so I stopped reading."
"It is too bad to leave him alone," said her mother. "You'd better go back to him."