And then they were off.
The snow was falling, a flake here and a flake there, when they started. But as the train sped farther and farther along into the country, the ground grew white and the window-panes of the train were dotted thick with flying snow. Soon each little bush and tree was clothed in a warm white cloak, while every fencepost and pole wore a round white hood or a tall pointed cap that gave to some of them the sauciest air in the world.
It was a real snowstorm, and Patty couldn’t help thinking that nothing could have been planned that would have given her greater pleasure.
She thought the country beautiful in its covering of spotless white.
She was delighted when Uncle Charles met them at the Four Corners Station with the old two-seater and the farm team of horses, instead of the automobile. As the horses pulled and plunged through the snow, Patty and Polly peeped over the edge of the carriage robe, their eyes very bright and their noses very red, but with their fingers as warm as toast in their new Christmas gloves, and both of them enjoying every moment of their ride.
The old red farmhouse looked pretty and homelike in its heavy trimming of soft white snow. And there in the doorway stood Aunt Mary, so anxious to see her visitors that she couldn’t wait indoors another moment.
Presents, and another beautiful Christmas Tree, and every one laughing and talking and wishing ‘Merry Christmas’ all at once. That is what happened at first, with Patty in the midst of it, hopping about, and sitting on people’s laps, and then slipping away to walk around the Christmas Tree again and again.
But presently Patty remembered something.
‘Where are the kitties, Aunt Mary?’ asked Patty, ‘the four new little kitties you wrote Mother to tell me about?’
‘Out in the barn,’ said Aunt Mary. ‘Would you like to see them? Uncle Charles will take you out there if you do.’