"Let it go at that, Dick. But after breakfast we'll make him wash all the dishes—every one—and spend the rest of the forenoon slicking up around the place. If he refuses—well, we'll know how to bring him to time."
So Hen was ignored for the time being. Dan and Greg busied themselves in the first breakfast preparations. Dick and Dave, presently, went over to one of the windows, forcing it back and tugging at the shutter, which proved to be frozen in place.
"Bring some hot water, Dan, the minute you get it," urged Dick. This was soon ready and a small amount of it was poured around the sill, loosening the shutter, which was shoved back.
"Glory! Look at the storm!" cried Dick. There was a rush after the glass window had been closed.
Never had a prettier snow scene been exposed to view. The snow was still swirling down, while what had fallen was up level with the window.
"It's a good four feet deep, already!" cried Dave.
"And looks as though it would go on snowing for a week," added Tom Reade joyously.
"Fellows," announced Dick, "we're surely snowbound. That's something that we've often dreamed about. Say, wouldn't it be queer if we had a long spell of this sort of thing, and couldn't—simply couldn't—get back to Central Grammar by the time school opens again after the holidays?"
"If the food holds out it'll be fun," assented Tom Reade.
Soon another shutter was opened, admitting more daylight. When they got around to the rear window, and got it open, Dick pointed to the shack in the rear.