"Why, the storm's over," said Janice, firmly. "And I must send some telegrams and get answers. Oh, I must! I must!"
"Hoity-toity, Miss Janice!" broke in Walky. "'Must' is a hard driver, I know. But I tell ye, we couldn't win through the drif's. Why, I been as slow as a toad funeral gettin' up here from High Street. The ox teams won't be out breakin' the paths before noon, and they won't get out of town before to-morrer, that's sure, Miss."
"Oh, my dear!" cried her aunt, again. "You mustn't think of doing such a thing. Wait."
"I can't wait," declared Janice, with pallid face and trembling lip, but her hazel eyes dry and hard. "I tell you I must know more."
"I can't take ye to Middletown, Janice. Not till the roads is broke,"
Walky said, firmly, shaking his head.
"Hi! here comes somebody else up the road," shouted Marty, from outside.
Janice ran, hoping to see a team. It was only a single figure struggling through the snow.
"By jinks!" exclaimed Marty. "It's the teacher."
"It is Mr. Haley," murmured Janice.
The young collegian, well dressed for winter weather, waved his hand when he saw them, and struggled on. He carried a long parcel and when he went through the more than waist-high drifts he held this high above his head.