“Lovely!” sighed Agnes. “Ruth and Cecile ought to see this.”
“Hold on!” warned the boy. “Get them out here and we’ll both be sent to bed in a hurry. Ruth’s got her bossing clothes on—has had ’em on ever since we left Milton.”
“Te-he!” giggled Agnes suddenly. “She feels her responsibility.”
“Guess she does,” chuckled Neale. “But there’s no need to add to her troubles. Believe me! the less I am bossed around by her the better I like it.”
“Oh, Neale,” said Agnes, “she only does it for your good.”
“Don’t you fret,” returned the boy, with a sniff. “I can get along without Ruth or anybody else worrying about whether I’m good, or not. Believe me!”
“Oh!” squealed Agnes suddenly. “What’s that?”
“Huh! Seen a rat? Scared to death?” scoffed Neale O’Neil.
“Look at that thing out there! It’s no rat,” declared the girl eagerly.
Neale then looked in the direction she pointed. Not twenty yards from the house, and sitting on its haunches in the snow, was an object that at first Neale thought was a dog. The shadow it cast upon the moon-lit snow showed pointed ears, however, and a bushy tail.