"His name is William Anthony Martin," said Aunt Jo. "I know, for I picked out the name."
"But we call him Trouble," said Ted, who was looking eagerly at his big uncle from the West, hoping, perhaps, that he might bring out a gun or a bow and some arrows from the pockets of his fur overcoat. But Uncle Frank did nothing like that.
"Come out in the dining-room and have something to eat," invited Mr. Martin.
"No, thank you. Miss Miller and I had supper before we came here," answered Uncle Frank. "We knew we'd be a little late. But we'll sit and talk a while."
"Mother, may Ted and I stay up and listen—a little bit?" begged Janet.
"Oh, yes, let them, do!" urged Aunt Jo. "It isn't so very late, and they don't have to go to school to-morrow. Besides if this storm keeps up all they can do is to stay in the house."
"We got big rubber boots, and we can go in deep drifts," explained Jan.
"Did you? Well, I guess the drifts will be deeper to-morrow than you've ever seen them if I'm any judge of weather," remarked Uncle Frank. "It's starting in like one of our worst blizzards."
"Then we'll be snowed in like the hermit said we'd be!" cried Ted. "That'll be fun!"
"What does he mean about a hermit?" asked Aunt Jo.