The snow was now drifting steadily down, and between the illumination by the colored slides in the lantern, and that from the blazing windows of the big house, it was indeed a scene to suggest fairyland!
"Into the house—all of you!" shouted Mr. Poole. "Boys, assist your partners through the snow."
"Come on! Come on!" shouted Carrie, in the lead with Neale O'Neil. "Forward, the Light Brigade!"
"Charge for the eats, they said!" added Agnes. "Oh—ow—ouch! over my shoe in the snow."
"And it's we-e-e-et!" wailed another of the girls. "Right down my neck!"
"'Be-you-ti-ful snow! He may sing whom it suits—
I object to the stuff 'cause it soaks through my boots!'"
quoted Agnes. "Hurry up, you ahead!"
So the march was rather ragged—more in the nature of a raid, indeed. But they had to halt at the side door where the two maids stood armed with brooms, for Mrs. Poole did not propose that the crowd should bring in several bushels of snow on their feet.
In the dining and sitting-rooms were long tables, and all loaded with good things. There were no seats, but plenty of standing room about the tables. Everybody helped everybody else, and there was a lot of fun.
Some of the girls began to be troubled by the storm. They made frequent trips to the windows to look out of doors. Soon wraps appeared and the girls began to say good-night to their young hostess.