The old horse, as if to justify the praise, went briskly. The sleighing was smooth, for there had been two or three snow-storms the past week. It was a rather sharp and wintry afternoon, cloudy, with every once in awhile a flurry of snow in large, star-shaped flakes.
“See how well Nature has tucked her children in, since we walked out here a week ago,” said Miss Ruth, as the sleigh, with merrily jingling bells, slid along the quieter part of Berkeley Avenue, where now masses of soft snow lined the roadside. “And there will soon be a thicker blanket put on, to keep them warm and safe until spring.”
“Think of the hut, all covered with snow,” Elsa said. “How pretty it must look.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun if we could sleigh-ride over to the Convalescent Home and see the children again,” exclaimed Betty, remembering the last Friday afternoon and their visit.
“But what about Alice waiting at home for us?” Miss Ruth asked quickly.
“O, I forgot,” Betty cried.
“I expect she’s wondering where we are,” exclaimed Ben. “G’long, Jerry!”
But Jerry did not need urging now, for a moment later Ben turned into the driveway which led to the rambling house with a piazza in front, out upon which looked many long, narrow windows, filled with bright-flowering plants, chiefly scarlet geraniums,—a cozy, cheerful home indeed.
Mrs. Holt was already at the front door,—a young woman in a plain dark blue dress with dainty lace collar and cuffs, and so slender and graceful that she looked more like an older sister of Ben’s than his mother. Quite a warm colour bloomed on her pretty face as she shook hands with Miss Ruth, whom Ben introduced by saying “This is the Black Lace Lady.”
“I am very happy to meet you, Miss Warren. Betty White I already know. And this is Elsa Danforth? Come in, please. Alice has been growing very impatient for your arrival,” Mrs. Holt said, with a gentle and well-bred hospitality.