There was not a horse or wagon or motor truck
to be seen on the street, and not even a single person. Every one who
could get in out of the storm had done so. And as it was noon by this
time even those whose work forced them to be out had managed to find
shelter somewhere for the lunch hour.
"I want to go home!" cried Dorothy Peters, just as Ruth Baker had cried
the day she went coasting with Sunny Boy and Nelson. Sunny Boy decided
that all girls acted the same way.
"Well, come on," said Jimmie Butterworth, putting his hands deeper into
his pockets. "Come on, Dorothy; you won't get home standing there and
crying about it. Hurry up."
The children began to walk again, but the snow blinded their eyes and
the wind continued to take their breath way. Jessie Smiley fell over a
curb stone and began to cry and Helen Graham, who had not said a word,
sat down in the snow and declared she wasn't going a step further.
"I think we're lost and we'll be buried in the snow and never, never
found any more!" she said. Helen liked exciting stories and she had
heard so many she thought she could tell a few herself and, as it
proved, she could.
"I don't want to be buried in the snow!" cried Jessie. "I won't be
buried and never, never found any more."
"You can't help yourself," Helen informed her. "Oh-h, my feet are
cold!"
"Well, I don't b'lieve we're going home," admitted Jimmie Butterworth,
working his arms up and down to get them warm.
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