Grandfather Gordon stretched his long legs toward the crackling log and yawned. “Why drive all the way to Goshen?” he asked. “That’s nearly twenty miles. Can’t I get everything you want at Deerford?”
“The stores there never have what I need,” complained his wife. “This time I have a special list and it’s a long one.”
“Goshen it must be then,” sighed Grandfather Gordon. “I may as well start early in the morning.”
He telephoned Mr. Jeffert to ask if he might pick up anything for him at Goshen.
“I’ll ride along if you’ll stop for me,” Mr. Jeffert said. “Meet you at eight o’clock.”
Now the next morning before Grandfather Gordon hitched the horses, he remarked that the sky looked very dark.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if we’re in for a heavy snow before nightfall,” he told Grandmother Gordon. “I’ll get along as fast as I can.”
Soon after Mr. Gordon had driven away with the bobsled, the flakes began to flutter down. So fast did they fall that the entire sky seemed full of moist feathers.
The Brownies loved the snow. All morning they played out in it, building a hut near the barn.
However, by lunch time a sharp wind had sprung up, so that it no longer was pleasant to be out-of-doors.