Let's hurry."
As they hurried on suddenly snow flakes began to fall. Gently at
first, then faster and faster, till the children could not see a foot
before them. Meg nearly walked into a tree.
"We won't go home the creek way," said Bobby decidedly. "Come on over
here, Meg, and we'll get down on to the road. It'll be easier walking,
and perhaps some one will give us a ride."
Both Meg and Bobby knew where the road was. They had driven over it
with Sam in the car, and they had walked it many a time in the summer.
Then why it should perversely disappear just at the time when they
needed it most was something neither one was ever able to explain. But
disappear it did--that ill-natured country road completely ran away
from them.
"We've walked awful far," sighed Meg, breathless from fighting against
the wind which blew the snow into their faces so sharply that each
flake stung. "Where do you suppose that road is, Bobby?"
Bobby was carefully carrying the eggs. He had no intention of losing
those.
"I guess we'll find it," he assured his sister cheerfully. "Are your
hands cold, Meg? Here, hold this heater a minute."
Meg's hands in her muff were quite comfortable, and she opened her
mouth to say so to Bobby. But without warning she slipped down out of
sight before she had time to say a word.
"Meg!" shouted Bobby. "Meg! Are you hurt?"
Meg's delighted little laugh bubbled up to him.
"Oh, Bobby," she gurgled.
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