“I’m worried about Grandfather and Mr. Jeffert,” said Miss Gordon. “I wonder if they will try to drive back from Goshen in this frightful blizzard?”
“I hope they decide to remain in town,” Grandmother Gordon replied, noticing that the kitchen windows were starting to freeze over from the inside. “But if they do, we may have a difficult time of it here.”
“The stock must be fed,” nodded Miss Gordon.
“And our wood supply soon will be low. As for groceries, we have enough of sorts, but tomorrow is the day before Christmas. I had planned to do my cooking and baking for the Christmas feast.”
The Brownies felt rather discouraged when they heard this conversation. Their parents were due to arrive the following night, and they wondered if the storm might prevent them from coming.
“Now children, don’t worry,” said Grandmother Gordon when she noticed the gloomy faces. “I’m sure Grandpa Gordon will drive home tonight if it’s at all possible.”
Even as she spoke the telephone rang. Three long jingles and two short ones. That was the Gordon’s call.
Mrs. Gordon went quickly to answer it. She talked a few minutes and then came back to the kitchen where the Brownies awaited her anxiously.
“It was Grandfather Gordon,” she revealed. “He telephoned from Goshen.”
“From Goshen?” repeated Miss Gordon. “Then he isn’t coming home tonight.”