“It’s getting colder in here,” she said.
“The engine’s barely turning over; there isn’t much heat coming out.”
“I know, but I mean the temperature outside must be dropping rapidly, and listen to the wind.”
But Janet preferred not to listen to the wind; it was too mournful, too nerve-wracking. What it whispered alarmed her for they were still some miles from the main road and there were few if any farms near.
The bus driver returned and motioned to the other boys.
“Give us a hand. We don’t want to stay here a minute longer than necessary.”
The rest of the boys piled out of the bus, leaving the girls and Miss Bruder alone.
“I’m nearly frozen,” complained Margie Blake. “At least we might have obtained a good bus driver.”
“I don’t think it’s the driver’s fault,” interposed Janet. “We stayed too long at Youde’s.”
“Then he should have told us the storm was getting worse. My folks will be worried half to death if we are hung up here all night.”