“Are—are you sure—” she began, and then finished quickly: “We’ll be most grateful, Miss Gordon. My husband hasn’t worked for several weeks, and he’s had bad luck with his traps. Except for your generosity, the children would have had no Christmas.”
“We’ll be back,” Miss Gordon assured her. “Now we must run along, for the snow is coming down faster by the minute.”
Mrs. Stone did not urge the Brownies to remain, for she too was alarmed by the increasing intensity of the storm.
Trooping out of the warm cabin, the girls were met by a blast of sub-zero wind which nearly swept them from their feet.
“O-o-oh!” squealed Veve. “This is awful! It’s a lot worse than it was!”
“The wind has risen a little,” Miss Gordon admitted, “and we must face it all the way to the farm. Duck your heads into your mufflers and follow me single file.”
By going ahead, Miss Gordon broke the wind for the girls, making it easier for them to walk. However, the trail they had made only a few minutes before from the roadway to the Stone cabin, already had been swept away. They had to weave in and out to avoid the larger drifts.
“Wait!” cried Veve just as the girls reached the road.
Everyone paused, wondering why she had called out.
“I’ve lost my mittens!” Veve informed the group. “I—I guess I left than on the table in Mrs. Stone’s kitchen.”