CHAPTER X.
MARION'S RIDE.
Marion had no other letter from her mother during the week, and she was so busy the whole time with her studies, music, etc., that it was not until Saturday afternoon that she started on her errand.
The weather had been unusually cold, and the previous night there had been quite a heavy fall of snow, which, notwithstanding it was now only the middle of November, still remained on the ground, and the thick, gray sky gave promise that there was yet more to come; indeed before Marion was fairly ready the flakes began to make their appearance, and came lazily down, as if they did not all relish being called out so early.
But Marion did not mind wind or weather, and with her water-proof over her thick sack, the hood drawn up over her head, and her feet encased in rubbers, she set out for her long walk in the most excellent spirits.
Florence went to the door with her and urged her to take an umbrella, but Marion laughed at the idea, saying, "It was only a little flurry and would be over in a minute;" but before she had reached Aunt Bettie's she wished she had taken Florence's advice, for the snow came down thicker and faster, beating against her face, and almost blinding her, so that it was with great difficulty that she could see her way, and it was at least an hour before she arrived at the farm-house.
She went round to the back of the house, and without knocking lifted the latch of the door, and entered a sort of shed or unplastered room, which in summer was used as a kitchen, but which now served as a wood-shed.
"Aunt Bettie," cried Marion, "are you there?" and she stamped her feet, and shook her clothes to get rid of the snow which covered her from head to foot.
"For the goodness' sakes, who's that?" exclaimed Aunt Bettie as she jumped up from her seat by the kitchen fire, where she had fallen asleep over her knitting, and hurried into the outer room.