"Trot him out," offered Roger. "I'll give him an antidote."
"He's in England," said Henrietta, "and I hope he'll stay there. He hasn't any idea of doing anything for himself; he's always talking about what he'll do when somebody else does such and such a thing for him."
"You mean," said Roger, "he hasn't any American independence."
"That's it," agreed Henrietta. "He'd have made a nice pink-and-white girl, but he's no use at all as a boy."
"How dark it's getting," said Jean. "I can hardly see my plate."
"I think," prophesied Wallace, breaking his long silence, "that it's going to snow. The sky's been a little thick for three days; when it comes we'll get a lot."
"Goody!" cried Henrietta, "I've never seen a real Lake Superior snowstorm and I want to. So far all the snow we've had has come in the night. I want to see it snow."
"You wouldn't," growled Wallace, "if you had to shovel several tons of it off your sidewalk."
"Will it snow very soon?" queried Henrietta, eagerly.
"Probably not before dark," returned Wallace, turning to glance at the dull sky. "It's only getting ready."