“Maybe we’d better not go into that at present,” Kitty suggested. “There—it’s beginning to snow!”
It certainly was, in a thorough-going, determined fashion that promised to last through the night, at the least.
Walking ’cross lots after dark through ankle-deep snow, with the storm beating in one’s face, was not a particularly pleasant way of passing the time, Blue Bonnet decided. “Kitty Clark!” she burst out. “If ever you dare dare me again!”
Kitty laughed. “You didn’t have to take it!”
“You knew I would!”
Kitty pulled off her mittens, blowing on her numbed fingers. “Well, I got paid in kind, didn’t I? Blue Bonnet, you mustn’t!” For Blue Bonnet had slipped her muff off, throwing the chain over Kitty’s head.
“Turn and turn about!” she insisted.
“Are you—too utterly fagged out?” Kitty asked presently, real concern in her voice, as Blue Bonnet stumbled, just saving herself from falling.
“I’m—a bit tired,” Blue Bonnet confessed. “I suppose it’s because I’m not so used to this sort of thing!” She wondered if Kitty really did know her way through the dark and storm; to all outward seeming, they were struggling aimlessly on across fields that had apparently no boundaries. They had left the friendly little light behind long since; it seemed as if she and Kitty were quite alone in a world of wind and snow.
All at once, she came to an abrupt stop. “Kitty, I’ve got to rest!” She dropped down on the snow in a forlorn little heap.