Elizabeth did not reply, and Gusta went on: "I stayed home last night--my brother just got back yesterday; I stayed to see him."
"Your brother?"
"Yes; Archie. He's been in the army. He got home yesterday from the Phil'pines."
"How interesting!" said Elizabeth indifferently.
"Yes, he's been there three years; his time was out and he came home. Oh, you should see him, Miss Elizabeth. He looks so fine!"
"Does he look as fine as you, Gusta?"
Elizabeth smiled affectionately, and Gusta's fair German skin flushed to her yellow hair.
"Now, Miss Elizabeth," she said in an embarrassment that could not hide her pleasure, "Archie's really handsome--he put on his soldier clothes and let us see him. He's a fine soldier, Miss Elizabeth. He was the best shooter in his regiment; he has a medal. He said it was a sharp-shooter's medal."
"Oh, indeed!" said Elizabeth, her already slight interest flagging. "Then he must be a fine shot."
Though Elizabeth in a flash of imagination had the scene in Gusta's home the night before--the brother displaying himself in his uniform, his old German father and mother glowing with pride, the children gathered around in awe and wonder--she was really thinking of the snow, and speculating as to what new pleasure it would bring, and with this she rose from the table and went into the drawing-room. There she stood in the deep window a moment, and looked out. The Maceys' man, clearing the walk over the way, had paused in his labor to lean with a discouraged air on his wooden shovel. A man was trudging by, his coat collar turned up, his shoulders hunched disconsolately, the snow clinging tenaciously to his feet as he plowed his way along. At the sight, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, gave a little sympathetic shiver, turned from her contemplation of the avenue that stretched away white and still, and went to the library. Here she got down a book and curled herself up on a divan near the fireplace. Far away she heard the tinkle of some solitary sleigh-bell.