"It certainly looks like it," said old Mr. King, wrapping his fur-lined coat closer. "Phronsie, are you sure you are warm enough?"
"Yes, Grandpapa dear," she answered, curling up deeper in the straw at his feet.
"Do you remember how you would carry the red-topped shoes home with you, Phronsie?" cried Polly, and then away they rushed again into "Oh, don't you remember this, and you haven't forgotten that?" Jasper as wildly reminiscent now as the others, for hadn't he almost as good as lived at the little brown house, pray tell? So the Whitneys looked curiously on, without a chance to be heard in all the merry chatter; and then they drew up at the gate of the parsonage, where they were all to have supper.
When Phronsie woke up in the big bed by the side of her mother the next morning, Polly was standing over her, and looking down into her face.
"Oh, Phronsie!" she exclaimed in great glee, "the ground is all covered with snow!"
"O—oh!" screamed Phronsie, her brown eyes flying wide open, "do give me my shoes and stockings, Polly, do! I'll be dressed in just one—minute," and thereupon ensued a merry scramble as she tumbled out of the big bed, and commenced operations, Polly running out to help Mamsie get the breakfast.
"Mush seems good now we don't have to eat it," cried Joel, as they all at last sat around the board.
"'Twas good then," said Mrs. Pepper, her black eyes roving over the faces before her.
"How funny," cried Percy Whitney, who had run over from the parsonage to breakfast, "this yellow stuff is." And he took up a spoonful of it gingerly.
"You don't like it, Percy; don't try to eat it. I'll make you a slice of toast," cried Polly, springing out of her chair, "in just one moment."