"Oh, I'm nearly half dead, Beth." She tried to laugh, but the attempt was not exactly a success.
Beth took her in to the fire, removed her wraps, all matted with snow, and called to Aunt Prudence for some hot tea.
"Is your father out to-night, Beth?" asked May.
"Yes, he went away out to the Browns'. But wherever have you been?"
"I've been taking some Christmas things to a poor family about two miles out in the country, and I didn't think the storm so very bad when I started; but I'm like the Irishman with his children, I've 'more'n I want'—of sleet, at any rate. Walter is away to-night, you know."
"Mr. Perth away! Where?"
"Oh, he went to Simcoe. He has two weddings. They are friends of ours, and we didn't like to refuse. But it's mean, though," she continued, with a sweet, affected little pout; "he'll not get back till afternoon, and it's Christmas, too."
"Oh, May dear, you'll just stay right here with us to-night, and for dinner to-morrow. Isn't that just fine!" Beth was dancing around her in child-like glee. Mrs. Perth accepted, smiling at her pleasure; and they sat on the couch, chatting.
"Did you say Dr. Woodburn had gone to the Browns'."
"Yes, Mrs. Brown is sick, too."