"What's the matter, Sir Lachrymose?" demanded Agnes, gaily.
"I believe the further wall of this snowhouse has slumped," he said. "Maybe there is no danger, but I don't know."
"Oh, nobody will go in, of course," Ruth cried.
"Sure they will, Ruth. Don't be a goose," said Agnes, sharply.
"I certainly will not," her sister said. "It was real warm this noon and maybe the house is just tottering. Isn't that so, Neale?"
"I don't know," said the boy. "Wish I did."
"Let's go in and find out," said Agnes, the reckless.
"Wait," drawled Neale. "I'd rather find out, out here than in there—especially if the thing is coming down."
"There goes Trix Severn—and Wilbur Ketchell," said Agnes, rather crossly. "They're going to risk it."
"Let them go, Aggie," said Neale. "I'm not going into that place until I'm sure."