“Yes, we do!” Connie shouted in return. “Grandfather Gordon is gone, and we’re almost out of wood.”
“I’ll feed the stock, and then shovel a path to meet yours,” Mr. Stone called. “Cheerio!”
Just to know that help was near greatly relieved the minds of Miss Gordon and the Brownies. They shoveled faster, making the snow fly. Some of it tumbled back into the path, but they laughed and shouted and did not mind.
Within another hour, the Brownies’ path joined the one Mr. Stone had made.
“Hi! Ho!” he greeted the girls. “I’ve fed the stock, and now I’ll make a side path to the woodpile. You run back to the house and warm your toes.”
“How are the roads?” Miss Gordon inquired anxiously.
“Still blocked. The snowplows can’t do much until the snow stops drifting.”
“And how is everyone at your place?”
Mr. Stone hesitated a moment and then said with forced cheerfulness: “Oh, fine! We have plenty of wood to keep the cabin warm.”
“And food?”