A shiver passed over the group that made the “nice little creeps” run down each back, as Polly began again, “Well, and there we were, shut up in our Little Brown House, and we didn’t know when any one would come to dig us out.”
“Why didn’t you run up-stairs, and look out?” cried Van, thrusting himself forward excitedly.
“Dear me, we did that the first thing,” said Polly; “I mean, Ben did. He tried to look out of the window in the loft, because, you know, we didn’t have any up-stairs, but a little place in the loft where the boys slept; and all he could see was the top of the snow where it had blown all up everywhere, and then he ran down and told Mamsie and me in the kitchen. Oh! you can’t think how perfectly dreadful it was those first few minutes; we were so glad the children were fast asleep in their beds.”
“Well, we weren’t,” grumbled Joel, who always felt defrauded out of every one of those dreadful minutes. “Dave and I wanted to be down in the kitchen with Mamsie and you.”
“Why, you didn’t know anything of it,” said Ben with a little laugh.
“Well, we wanted to be there if we didn’t,” said Joel, not minding the laugh in which the others joined.
“And Mamsie said we were not to worry, for God would take care of us,” said Polly gravely. “And then she asked Him to do it, and to send some one to dig us out; and then she said,—and I’ll never forget it,—‘Now, children, we must set ourselves to think what we ought to do, and go to work, because God doesn’t help people who do not help themselves.’ And then we all sat down to think up the best thing to do. And Ben said he thought we ought to tie something to a long stick, and run it out the window, and maybe”—
“No, that was Polly’s idea,” said Ben quickly; “she thought of it first.”
“O Ben! you surely said so,” cried Polly, with rosy cheeks.
“Well, you spoke of it first, and so I said I’d do it,” declared Ben positively. “It was Polly who thought it all out.”