Presently, too, their whilom bright eyes got so dimmed with unshed tears which would well up, that they were unable to see clearly had there been anything or anyone for them to see; while their little putty noses, when they removed them occasionally from close contact with the glass, bore a suspiciously red appearance that was not entirely due to previous pressure against the window panes.
Nor were their surroundings of a sufficiently enlivening character to banish the little maidens’ despondency, the fire in the drawing-room grate having died out long since from inattention, making them feel cold and comfortless, and it had got so dark within that they could not distinguish the various articles of furniture, even papa’s armchair in the chimney-corner; while, outside, in the gloaming, the snow-flakes were falling slowly and steadily from a leaden-hued sky overhead.
The only thing breaking the stillness of the murky air was the melancholy “Chirp, churp! chirp, churp” uttered at intervals by some belated sparrow who had not gone to bed in good time like all sensible bird-folk, and whose plaintive chirp was all the more aggravating from its monotonous repetition.
“I’m sore sumtin d’eadfill’s happened,” whimpered little Cissy, the youngest of the three watchers, after a long silence between them. “Pa sood have been back hours and hours and hours ago.”
“Nonsense, Cissy!” said Miss Conny, her elder sister, who by virtue of her seniority and the fact of her having reached the mature age of ten was rather prone to giving herself certain matronly airs of superiority over the others, which they put up with in all good faith, albeit they were most amusing to outside onlookers. “You are always imagining something terrible is going to befall everybody, instead of hoping for the best! Why don’t you learn to look on the bright side of things, child? Every cloud, you know, has its silver lining.”
“But not dat one up dere!” retorted Cissy, unconvinced by the proverb, pointing to the sombre pall of vapour that now enveloped the whole sky overhead; when, struck more than ever with the utter dismalness of the scene, she drew out a tiny sort of doll’s handkerchief from as tiny a little pocket in her tiny pinafore-apron, and began wiping away the tears from her beady eyes and blowing her little red nose vigorously. “It’s all black, and no light nowhere; and I’m sore poor pa and Teddy and all of dem are lost!”
With that, completely overcome by her own forebodings, the little thing all at once broke down, sobbing in such a heart-broken way that it was as much as Conny could do to comfort her; the elder sister drawing her to her side and hugging her affectionately, rocking her small person to and fro the while with a measured rhythm-like movement as if little Cissy were a baby and she her mother, hushing her to sleep!
At this moment, Liz, who occupied the middle step between the two, and was of a much more sedate and equable nature than either of her sisters, suddenly effected a diversion that did more to raise Cissy’s spirits than all Conny’s whispered consolation and kisses.
“I think I see a black speck moving in the lane,” she exclaimed, removing her face a second from the glass to look round at the others as she spoke, and then hastily glueing it to the pane again. “Yes, somebody’s coming. There’s an arm waving about!”
Conny and Cissy were instantly on the alert; and before Liz had hardly got out the last words they had imitated her example, wedging their little noses once more against the window, looking down the lane, and trying somewhat vainly to pierce the haze obscuring the distance.