“Welcome,” he said, struggling to keep his sleepy eyes open.
“Is it still snowing?” asked Nan.
“Hard,” answered Bert, looking out of the window, though, truth to tell, he could see nothing, it was so pitch dark outside. But he could hear the rattle of snow against the glass.
“I hope it stops by morning,” sighed Nan.
“So do I—long enough for us to get back to camp, anyhow,” added Bert.
He got himself a drink and went back to bed, there to sleep soundly until morning, when Mrs. Bimby called him and Nan to get up.
“Come, dearies,” said the kind old woman. “We’ll have breakfast, such as it is.”
For a few moments after awakening Bert and Nan could not quite remember where they were. Bert afterward said that he hoped there would be hot buckwheat cakes for breakfast, with maple syrup, such as they had had in the cabin where Mrs. Baxter acted as cook. But there was no such appetizing smell as that of pancakes coming up from Mrs. Bimby’s kitchen.
“I’m sorry I haven’t any more to offer you,” she said to the children, as she set before them some more weak tea and a few pieces of bread and butter. “If my Jim had come back we’d have had enough to eat. But as it is, I’m afraid you’ll go hungry soon.”
“We’ll eat what’s left of our lunch,” said Bert.