And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until—until—
Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eating when an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie.
“Oh, Granny,” she said, “the boys have made a most wonderful coast down Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting until nine o’clock if you’ll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, especially if Billy comes along.”
“If Misther Billy goes, ’twill be all roight.”
“Oh, Granny,” Maida said, “you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!” She was so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the time Granny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached the street, it seemed as if she must explode.
A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made the night like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for the street and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds.
“It’s like the ‘Pied Piper’, Rosie,” Maida said joyfully, “children everywhere and all going in the same direction.”
They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where Halliwell Street sloped down the hill.
Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. “Great Scott, what a coast!” he said.
In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide and as smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound of snow served as a buffer.