“Now in that white house there sat a grandmother and a grandfather before the fire.
“Presently the grandmother laid down her knitting.
“‘I think I hear sleigh-bells in the lane,’ said she.
“The grandfather put down his book.
“‘I think I hear horses’ feet,’ said he.
“Then the grandmother rose and looked out of the window.
“‘I see a lantern,’ said she, peering out through the snowflakes, for it had begun to snow again.
“At that the grandfather flung open the door and in came—”
“Me!” exclaimed Susan. “And I didn’t cry one bit. Did I?”
“Mercy, no,” said Grandfather, opening his eyes wide at the very thought. “You just winked and blinked in the light, and when I held out my arms you came straight to me.”