"I don't see any snow," and Patty shut her blue eyes tight.
"Of course you don't, you old goose! If a roaring Bengal tiger stood in front of you, with full intent of eating you at once, you'd shut your eyes and say, 'There isn't any tiger there.' That is, if you had time to get the words out before you slipped down his throat."
Leisurely, Patty got up, shook her rumpled skirts, and walked to the window.
"It does look like snow," she observed, critically eyeing the landscape.
"Look like snow!" cried Elise; "it's a blizzard, that's what it is!"
"Well, doesn't a blizzard look like snow? It does to me. And I don't know anything nicer than a whole long day in the house. I'm having the time of my life."
Patty threw herself into a big armchair, in front of the blazing log fire, and contentedly held out her slippered feet to the glowing warmth.
"But we were going to play tennis, and——"
"My dear child, tennis will keep. And what's the use of growling? As you remark, it is a young blizzard, and we can't possibly stop it, so let's make the best of it, and have what is known in the kiddy-books as Indoor Pastimes."
"Patty, you're enough to exasperate a saint! You and your eternal cheerfulness!"