“She says we might leave this one at home, and make a new kite when we get there,” they cried.
“What a sensible idea!” exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; “and I may have leisure to help you.”
“We’ll take plenty of newspapers,” said Solomon John.
“And twine,” said the little boys. And this matter was settled.
The question then was, “When should they go?”
THE PETERKINS SNOWED-UP.
MRS. PETERKIN awoke one morning to find a heavy snow-storm raging. The wind had flung the snow against the windows, had heaped it up around the house, and thrown it into huge white drifts over the fields, covering hedges and fences.
Mrs. Peterkin went from one window to the other to look out; but nothing could be seen but the driving storm and the deep white snow. Even Mr. Bromwick’s house, on the opposite side of the street, was hidden by the swift-falling flakes.
“What shall I do about it?” thought Mrs. Peterkin. “No roads cleared out! Of course there’ll be no butcher and no milkman!”