“If that gal wants t’ git home for Christmas she’d better make a start. It hain’t snowin’ a bit—oh, no!”
Jinny sprang up to box his ears; but as he dodged out through the door he left it ajar and a great swirl of driving snowflakes was sucked into the room.
“Shet that door, Jinny!” called the mother. “Ye want t’ give the baby his death?”
“Oh, Janice! It is snowin’ hard,” cried Virginia.
“I’ll hurry right home,” agreed Janice, jumping up and putting on her outer clothing. Her sled was already packed with the Christmas wreaths that Virginia and Mayrie and Elsie had made for her.
“You Tom!” Virginia shouted. “Come, pull this sled for Miss Janice,” she commanded, when the red-haired boy appeared.
“Won’t neither!” he declared. “’Tain’t no weight to it——”
“You shet up an’ take holt on them sled ropes,” interrupted the little virago. “Or else you needn’t come in t’ no supper this night.”
In the clearing the snow was coming down faster and faster. Janice could scarcely see as far as the road. Tom grumbled aloud:
“If I go clean down in t’ Polktown with her, I won’t git back to no supper. ’Tain’t goin’ t’ be fitten for a hawk t’ be out by supper time.”