“What charming children your little nieces are, Miss Barrows,” Mrs. Rice remarked as she rose to go.
Aunt Charlotte replied in gratified tones that they were nice children, then as she opened the door for her visitor, she exclaimed. “Can it be snowing?”
“Surely not; it is as mild as May,” said the visitor.
But certainly the air was full of something very like snow; both ladies were puzzled.
“Why Miss Barrows it is feathers!” Mrs. Rice cried, picking an unmistakable goose feather from her sleeve. “See!”
Aunt Charlotte stepped to the edge of the porch and looked up; yes, they came from the third story windows, accompanied by a sound of great merriment. Forgetting ceremony, she left her visitor without a word, and climbed the stairs as fast as her portly frame allowed.
What a scene met her eye! A scene of feathers and wild hilarity. Breathing was almost impossible and she quickly withdrew to the hall where, rapping sternly on the door, she called “Children! children! what does this mean?”
Presto! What a change! Three perspiring, befeathered children came suddenly to themselves and stared at one another in dismay.
“We’ll sweep them up and put them back, Aunt Charlotte,” said Caro.
“I told Caro there was a rip, and that the feathers would come out,” explained Marjorie in a tone of injured innocence.