"I prefer you whole," said her mother. "We shall have to devise something pleasant to do. You don't make fudge as often as you used to make it in town; would fudge be a solution?"
Happie shook her head with unmistakable emphasis. "I shouldn't like a solution of fudge, motherums," she said. "And it wouldn't be a solution of our troubles. Especially that there isn't any trouble," added Happie, rallying in an attempt at her usual cheerfulness. "I'll go back to the others and see if we can't think up something so interesting that we can drown out that no-sounding loud silence."
"Reading aloud?" suggested Mrs. Scollard, as Happie rose lazily and turned towards the door.
Happie turned back. "Now, motherums," she said reproachfully; "on such day as this we couldn't hear the most interesting story that was ever written; the silence would drown it. I wonder what can be the matter? I never noticed such a—such an audible silence, and it isn't like me to be so good-for-nothing, and restless."
"It is our first experience of a snow-storm in the country, and I suspect loneliness is at the bottom of your restlessness, dear Happie," said her mother. "I hope you'll find a weapon to rout your enemies, the silence and the loneliness, though you won't own up to the latter, my Happiness." And Mrs. Scollard waved a tiny farewell to her daughter, with more cheerfulness of manner than of heart.
"We're going to prowl, Hapsie," announced Bob, as Happie came back to her own room, where the clan of Scollard had assembled.
"To prowl? Where? We haven't any snow-shoes," said Happie.
"We don't need them in the attic, and that's where we're going to prowl. We thought we would go up there and see how it seems with the roof snow-padded," returned Bob.
"I imagine it will seem cold," said Happie. "However, I'm ready. There seems to be nothing better to do this morning."
"Penny and I are going down to get mama to read to us," said Polly. "Penny'll get cold up there, and we're going to ask mama——"