“It’s all my fault! I’m going to take every bit of the blame,” Betsy declared. The six girls were huddled in the shelter of the bus while faithful Micky, up on the storm-beaten high seat, steered as best he could the weary team through the drifts and the blinding snow.
“It’s not all your fault,” Virginia declared stoutly. “I knew that you planned leaving the bus to visit the old house and I should have advised you not to.”
“You couldn’t have stopped us, I mean me,” Betsy declared. “I’ve been foolishly headstrong. You did say that it was unwise but, of course we didn’t know we were going in.”
Barbara laughed. “I’ll say I didn’t. I never was so surprised in all my life as I was when I DID go in.”
“What happened?” Dickey Taylor inquired. Then, when she had been informed, she added: “Oh, how I do wish I had been there. Next time, take me, please do! I adore adventures.”
“Girls, it has stopped snowing. Whizzle, but I’m glad!” Betsy announced.
“What’s more the clouds are parting and the moon is coming through. Now poor Micky will be able to see where he is driving.” This from Megsy.
“Girls,” Barbara put in, “that Irish boy is as faithful a friend as anyone could find on top of this earth. I wish we could do something nice for him. Is there anything he wants that anybody knows? If there is, we rescued ones might chip in and give it to him.”
“Babs, you’ve known him longest and you’re really the lady of his heart, so suppose you find out and then we’re with you on the coin part of it,” Betsy said in a low voice, although her words could not possibly have been heard by the boy who was whistling to keep up his spirits and perhaps to hearten up his lagging team.
“Virg, what are you thinking of so intently?” Dicky Taylor asked.