Roger Calendar was there—since the cow Lydia had died, Elizabeth Ann and Doris didn’t see much of Roger except in school. He worked all day Saturday at the Gould farm and Mr. Bostwick said that if he had to lose so much of the time that belonged to him, of course he would expect Roger to try to make it up by working a little longer before and after school.
“Where’s Catherine?” asked Roger, looking down the road as though he expected to see her running over the snow.
“We didn’t see anything of her,” Elizabeth Ann replied. “Maybe she is not coming.”
Other boys and girls came straggling up, their cheeks red and glowing, their eyes bright, because they had had to climb fences and go around fields to get through to the road, and the exercise made them feel comfortable and warm.
“Here comes the bus!” shouted the boys, as the chug-chug they all knew so well sounded from around a curve in the road.
“That must be Catherine!” Elizabeth Ann cried, pointing to a little dot that was moving across the snow.
Doris looked at her cousin anxiously.
“You can’t wait for her, Elizabeth Ann,” she urged. “You mustn’t; she’s late now. Dave won’t wait, and he’ll be mad if you do. You know what he said—the next time anybody made a fuss he’d report them to the principal.”
“Come on, Elizabeth Ann,” said Roger. “Catherine will turn around and go home, anyway; she couldn’t make the bus, even if she ran her feet off. She’s too late now.”