With difficulty Johnson suppressed a smile; nevertheless he observed soberly:
“Oh, so you’re the teacher?”
“Yep—I learn m’self an’ the boys at the same time,” she hastened to explain, and dropped a heaping teaspoon of coarse brown sugar into his cup. “But o’ course Academy’s suspended when ther’s a blizzard on ’cause no girl could git down the mountain then.”
“Is it so very severe here when there’s a blizzard on?” Johnson was saying, when there came to his ears a strange sound—the sound of the wind rising in the canyon below.
The Girl looked at him in blank astonishment—a look that might easily have been interpreted as saying, “Where do you hail from?” She answered:
“Is it...? Oh, Lordy, they come in a minute! All of a sudden you don’t know where you are—it’s awful!”
“Not many women—” digressed the man, glancing apprehensively towards the door, but she cut him short swiftly with the ejaculation:
“Bosh!” And picking up a plate she raised it high in the air the better to show off its contents. “Charlotte rusks an’ lemming turnover!” she announced, searching his face for some sign of joy, her own face lighting up perceptibly.
“Well, this is a treat!” cried out Johnson between sips of coffee.
“Have one?”