They set out bravely to finish their journey to the old Corner House. Some of the drifts were waist deep and the wind had begun to blow. "My! but I'm glad we're not over on those flats now," said Agnes.
It was almost one o'clock when they struggled through the last drift and reached the back door of the old Corner House. Uncle Rufus, his feet on the stove-hearth, was sleeping in his old armchair, waiting up for them.
"Oh, Uncle Rufus! you ought to be abed," cried Ruth.
"You've lost your beauty sleep, Uncle Rufus," added Agnes.
"Sho', chillen, dis ain't nottin' fo' ol' Unc' Rufus. He sit up many a night afore dis. An' somebody has ter watch de Christmas goose."
"Oh! The Christmas goose?" cried Agnes. "Has it come?"
"You wanter see him, chillen?" asked the old colored man, shuffling to the door. "Looker yere."
They followed him to the woodshed door. There, roosting on one leg and blinking at them in the lamplight, was a huge gray goose. It hissed softly at them, objecting to their presence, and they went back into the warm kitchen.
"Why does it stand that way—on one leg—Uncle Rufus?" asked Agnes.
"Perhaps it's resting the other foot," Ruth said, laughing.