Looking like ghosts in their heavily coated garments, the Brownies tramped into the house to toast themselves by the fire. The snow kept falling steadily, driving against the windows and banking up so that one could not readily see outside.
“I’ll be glad when Grandfather returns,” said Mrs. Gordon uneasily. “The storm is getting worse.”
“And the wind is drifting the snow,” added Miss Gordon.
Now the Brownies could see very plainly that both Mrs. Gordon and their leader were worried lest Grandfather Gordon and Mr. Jeffert have trouble getting home from Goshen.
Miss Gordon kept walking to the kitchen window to look at the main road.
“How long will the storm last?” Connie asked anxiously.
“That’s hard to say, dear,” replied the Brownie leader. “Usually not very long, but this one may be different. Once we had a blizzard which kept up three days and nights.”
“Three days!” gasped Connie. “But that would be until after Christmas!”
“I didn’t mean this storm will last that long,” said Miss Gordon quickly. “However, I am afraid it may keep us from taking the sled to the Stone children unless we do so at once.”
“Let’s go now,” urged Eileen.