Janet slipped into her old coat. It wasn’t much to look at but it was warm and serviceable, one of those bunglesome coonskins that were so popular with college students at one time. She twisted her scarf around her neck, gave her mother a quick hug and kiss, and strode out of the house.
Janet kicked along through the dry snow, walking rapidly until she reached Helen Thorne’s home. There were no lights in the southeast room and Janet knew that Helen must be dressed for that was Helen’s room.
She whistled sharply, a long and a short, that penetrated the quick of the twilight.
The porch light flashed on and Helen, sticking her head out, yelled, “I’m coming.”
Helen hurried down the walk, wriggling into a suede jacket.
“Think that will be warm enough?” asked Janet, who felt very much bundled up in her coonskin.
“I’ve got my corduroy jacket underneath and a sweater under that. I’m practically sealed up against the cold, but I’ll run back and get my old coonskin.”
They swung along rapidly toward Whet’s scuffing through the dry snow.
“I like this,” said Helen, breathing deeply. “The snow’s grand and it isn’t too cold. Wonder if they’ll have any heat at Youde’s?”
“Oh, the dining room will be warm, but there’s only a fireplace out in the room where we skate. Wraps will probably feel good there until we get well warmed up from skating.”