“Let me,” offered Penny quickly.
“In this storm?”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I rather like it.”
“All right, then,” agreed Mrs. Downey in relief. “But don’t get lost, whatever you do. If the trails become snowed over it might be better to stay on the main road.”
“I won’t get lost,” laughed Penny. “If worse comes to worst I always can climb a pine tree and sight the Fergus hotel.”
She dried out her mittens, and putting on an extra sweater beneath her jacket, stepped outside the lodge. The wind had fallen and only a few snowflakes were whirling down. Hearing the faint tingle of bells, Penny turned to gaze toward the road, where a pair of white horses were pulling an empty lumber wagon up the hill.
The driver, hunched over on the seat, was slapping his hands together to keep them warm.
“Why, that looks like Old Whiskers himself,” thought Penny. “It is Peter Jasko.”
The observation served only to remind her of their unpleasant meeting. Since being so discourteously ejected from the Jasko property Penny had not ventured back. Knowing that the old man was away she felt sorely tempted to again visit the locality.
“I guess I ought not to take the time,” she decided regretfully. “Mr. Glasser will be fretting for his paper.”