But this was not to be thought of, for as they turned around, they were choked by a powerful gust.
“’Twill blow us out,” wailed Dotty, feeling like a feeble candle breathed upon by a giant.
Tate’s nose had ceased to bleed; but as they were now outside the school-yard, they decided to keep on, especially as they could not help it.
“We don’t walk,” observed Dotty, helplessly; “we blow.”
Still it was a hard struggle, for the snow was very deep indeed.
“What store is this?” said Tate, suddenly, after they had waded along in moody silence for quarter of an hour. “What store is it?”
“Don’t you know the way to your own mother’s house?” returned Dotty, falling head first into a drift.
“Yes; but where are we going to now? There used to be, O, Dotty, there used to be a house here, and now it’s a store.”
“Tate Penny, I never saw such a girl!”