"Good night," said Ben, and he shut the door softly and went downstairs.
It was so still all through the big mansion—little Dick and Phronsie of course being abed and asleep hours ago, and all the other children away. Ben opened the big front door and stepped out on the stone porch. Oh, how good the crisp air was! He sniffed it in, and threw back his broad shoulders for another and another breath; then he hurried into the house to get his coat and cap,—and, jamming this last on his head, he thrust his hands in his pockets, and set off for a walk. Yes, they must—the merry sleighs full—be well on their way home by this time, because Grandpapa, who, of course, was going with them, had told Mother Fisher he should bring them home early.
Oh, how good the air was! Ben thought he hadn't tasted any quite so sweet since he left Badgertown—and he deserted the sidewalk now, having reached the thoroughfare, and struck out in the middle of the road, where it was more fun crunching down the snow. How long he walked he didn't know. Suddenly sleigh-bells jingled,—and merry voices,—and, yes, there was Polly's laugh,—and, why, of course, there was Grandpapa's voice,—and then,—
"Oh, there he is!" screamed Polly. "Oh, Ben!" stretching out her arms.
And "Hop up here," called Grandpapa, his cheeks rosy under the white hair. And up Ben went like a flash! One word to the driver of the four horses and off they went, turning first in the direction from which they had just come—the other big sleigh following fast.
"Oh, Grandpapa, we are going to give Ben a sleigh-ride," cried Polly, in a glad little voice, and clapping her brown gloves together.
"Of course," said Grandpapa; "we are going to give him a little one this time, and a big one, all made up on purpose for him, some other night."