“Betcher life!” exclaimed Marty, proudly. “There ain’t much new that’s any good in Polktown, that isn’t started by that cousin of mine. And she got that idea from mother’s saying that she loved to read about foreign places and foreign people, though she knew she’d never get far from Polktown to see such things.”
“I see,” agreed Nelson.
“So Janice said: ‘Let’s see if we can’t bring the places here,’ and I vow!” he concluded, “if she ain’t goin’ to do it!”
They started on. The big Concannon house, which stood close to the road, loomed through the snow. “If you think it’s possible she may be here,” suggested Nelson, doubtfully, “we might stop and find out.”
“Come on,” said Marty, taking the lead.
He made his way to the side porch. It was heaped with snow and the windows were masked with it, too. There was a light inside, early as was the hour. Marty thundered on the portal.
“Hello, in there, Elder!” he shouted. “Is Janice Day here?”
There was a movement within, and voices. They could hear Janice laughing cheerily. A heavy step came into the entry and the door was flung wide open.
“Come in, boys,” said the deep voice of the Elder. “Come in and get warm. This is a pretty serious storm. I have already got one refugee.”
“Did you come looking for me, Marty?” cried Janice from the sitting-room. “Do come in and try to beat the Elder at least one game of checkers. He’s beaten me five straight games——