“Sleeping at this time of day?”
“Yes; you see she got thoroughly chilled.”
“Chilled?”
“Yes; she and that Penny child lost their way.”
“Lost their way? When? Where?”
“Going from the school-house to Mrs. Penny’s.”
Prudy was excessively amused.
“Why, papa, the road isn’t any longer’n my little finger!”
“But this snow, my dear, is a great deal deeper than your finger. I fear we shall hear of sad accidents, for it will prove one of the worst storms ever known in New England.”
It was a fearful night. The wind shrieked and rattled the windows, and shook the storm-door. One would have thought a legion of wretched, starving beggars were prowling about the house, pleading to be let in. And still it was nothing but the wind.