The two old ladies were not of the quaint type, nor was their home picturesque. The place and the people were merely old-fashioned, and they were almost primitive in their ways. They were kind-hearted and hospitable, but they were of the rugged New England class that has lost the charm of its Colonial ancestry.

The dinner was wholesome and plentiful, but with no variety, and served in the plainest fashion. The chicken pie was delicious, but it had no accompaniments except home-made hot biscuit and coffee with thick, rich, country cream.

“I always say,” said Miss Winthrop, as she settled herself at the table, “that chicken pie is a whole meal in itself, without any bothersome side-dishes. I say it’s meat and drink both; but sister says she just can’t enjoy it ’thout she has a cup of coffee alongside of it. Well, I’ve 261 no objections to the coffee, I’m sure, but I’m free to admit it does seem superfluous. Still, with company so, it ain’t so much out of place.”

“I’m sorry if we’ve made you any extra trouble,” said Patty, giving Miss Winthrop one of her best smiles; “but I’m free to confess that this is the most wonderful coffee that I’ve ever tasted, and I think it goes specially well with the pie. And as for these light biscuit, they’re just puffs of lusciousness! Aren’t they, Philip?”

“They are, indeed! All you say is true, but both coffee and biscuit pale beside the glory of this chicken pie! There never was such another!”

Mrs. Fay beamed with delight at these generous compliments, and said, complacently, “Yes, they ain’t many can make chicken pie like mine, if I do say it. My, ain’t it lucky you young people happened along, to-day of all days! And land knows, I don’t want you to go away right off. I’d like you to set a spell after dinner. But I feel it my bounden duty to tell you that ’Kiah says there’s a storm a-brewin’. But I don’t think you need start off before, say, three o’clock, anyway.” 262

“Three o’clock will do nicely,” returned Philip, gaily. “That will give us time to stop at Hatton’s Corners and get home before dark. Personally, I’m not in a bit of a hurry.”

“No?” And Mrs. Fay looked quizzically at her guests. “I just reckon, young man, that you ain’t one mite sorry that you lost your way and had this little outing with your young lady?”

“Indeed I’m not sorry, Mrs. Fay; and beside our little outing, we’re having a pleasant visit with you, and we’re enjoying every minute of it.”

“Indeed we are,” said Patty, glancing out of the window as she spoke. “But it’s beginning to snow already, and I don’t think we’d better wait until three o’clock.”

“Land’s sake!” and Miss Winthrop turned to look out of the window behind her. “So it is snowing! And when it begins that way, with fine flakes, slanting crossways, it means business! I dunno as you can hardly dare venture on a twelve-mile ride in the face of this. ’Pears to me it’s going to be a blizzard.”

“Nonsense, Mina; you do always look on the dark side,” expostulated her sister. “Now I think ’tain’t nothing but a flurry, and by then 263 dinner is over, it’ll be bright sunshine again. Now, have your plates filled up, friends, and try and make out a meal.”

Mrs. Fay fairly beamed with hospitality as she urged more viands upon her guests. The table appointments were of the plainest, being thick white china and coarse table napery, with plated silverware. Patty had expected thin little old teaspoons of hall-marked silver, and old blue or perhaps copper-lustre teacups, but this household was not of that sort. Everything seemed to date from the early seventies, and Patty wondered why there were no old Winthrop heirlooms in the family.

She brought the conversation round to antiques, and Mrs. Fay remarked, decidedly: “I just can’t bear old-fashioned things. I come into quite a lot of old mahogany furniture and pewter and dishes and things when my grandfather died. But when I got married, I had an auction and sold everything. Then I took the money and bought a whole new outfit. I believe in going right along with the times. ’Course those old things were all right for grandfather, but when I married, I’m free to confess, I wanted things that were in style then. So I bought a real tasty outfit, and I’ve kept 264 it careful, and it’s pretty near as good as new now.”

She looked around with pride at her dining-room furnishings, which seemed to Patty about the worst she had ever seen.

But she smiled at her hostess, and said, cordially: “I do think it’s nice to have just what you want; and I think we do get attached to our own things. Have you lived here long?”

“Land, yes! Nearly all my life. Mr. Fay, he’s been dead twenty-five years; so sister and me we live here together, as contented as you please. We have a telephone and a rural delivery, so you see it’s just the same as if we were right in town. Now, if you really won’t eat any more pie, let’s go into the sittin’-room a spell.”

From the sitting-room windows the view of the storm seemed more serious. The sky was black, the wind was blowing a gale, and the snow-flurry had grown thicker. In fact, it was a hard snowstorm, and Miss Winthrop’s fear of a blizzard did not seem entirely unfounded.

The young people took it lightly, however. “There’s no use worrying,” said Patty. “We ought to be thankful, Philip, that we’re under shelter, and with such kind friends. You’ll 265 keep us till the storm is over, won’t you, Mrs. Fay?”

“Yes, and glad to. You just can’t think of starting now, so you might as well settle down and make the best of it. Want to telephone to your people again?”

“We will after a while; but there’s no use calling them up now. Let’s wait and see whether the storm grows worse or better. Why, if it’s a blizzard, we may have to stay here all night!”

“Don’t let that worry you none,” and Mrs. Fay swung back and forth complacently in her plush patent-rocker. “We got two spare bedrooms, and I’ll just be tickled to death to put you up over night. You’re just like a streak of sunshine in the house, Miss Fairfield, and I’m glad to have you as long as you’ll stay.”

“I wish you’d call me a streak of sunshine,” said Philip. “I’d love to be called that.”

“Well, you’re bright enough,” and Mrs. Fay looked at him, serenely. “But you’re a different kind of a streak.”

“A streak of lightning, I guess, if need be,” said Miss Winthrop, nodding her head at Philip, as if she appreciated his capabilities. 266

“I’m quick at some things,” said Philip, modestly. “But, jiminy crickets! I don’t believe we’re going to be very quick getting away from here! Just look at the storm, now!”

The fury of the elements had increased. The wind was a raging northern blast, and the snow was already piled in drifts. It was, in fact, a blizzard in a small way, and was rapidly growing.

“But never mind the weather, so long as we’re together,” sang Patty with a little trill, as she danced about the room. Then she seated herself at the old, square piano, and began to sing snatches of gay songs.

“My land! How pretty you do sing,” said Miss Winthrop, who was leaning on the end of the piano, listening delightedly. “Oh, sing more, won’t you? I don’t know when I’ve had such a treat.”

So Patty sang several of her prettiest songs, and the two old ladies were enchanted. Moreover, Eliza, the maid-of-all-work, and ’Kiah, the hired man, appeared in the doorway of the sitting-room and listened too.

“Come on, Philip; let’s give them a duet,” and Patty broke into some rollicking college songs, in which Philip joined. 267

Glad to be able to please their kind entertainers, they kept on singing for an hour or more.

“Well, that was great!” exclaimed Mrs. Fay, as Patty rose at last from the piano stool. “I used to sing some, and he used to sing bass. My, but we had nice times singing together there at that same piano. You two just made me think of it all over again. I think it’s awful nice for two to sing together.”

“Yes, we’re awfully fond of singing together,” said Philip, with a glance at Patty, half mischievous, half tender, whereat Patty blushed.

“You needn’t tell me,” said Mrs. Fay, nodding her head. “I see just how it is with you two. You can’t hide it, you know, so you needn’t to try.”

“Oh, I don’t want to hide anything, I’m sure,” said Philip. But Patty said, “Don’t be foolish, Philip; there’s nothing to hide! You’re mistaken, Mrs. Fay, if you think we’re anything more than friends.”

“Oh, land, child, I know what that means! Maybe you ain’t ready to say yes yet, but you will soon. Well, it ain’t none of my business, but I’m free to confess you are as proper-lookin’ 268 a young couple as I’d want to meet; and mighty well suited to each other.”

“That’s what I think,” began Philip, but Patty turned the subject and went back to the weather, which was always a safe ground for conversation, if not safe to go out into.

“Well,” she said, going to the window for the fourteenth time; “it’s perfectly hopeless to think of starting. And it’s after four now, and it’s blowing great guns and snowing like all possessed! Mrs. Fay, we’ll simply have to accept your hospitality for the night. Now I think I’ll telephone Adèle that we’re stormbound.”

But though Patty called and called, she could get no answer from the telephone Central.

“Guess the wires must be down,” said Miss Winthrop. “They broke down last winter with a snow that came sudden, just like this, and ’twas a week before we got it fixed.”

“Let me try,” and Philip took the receiver from Patty’s hand. But it made no difference who tried, they could get no answer of any kind.

“Oh, well,” said Philip, as he hung up the receiver again, “it doesn’t matter much. They know we’re safe, and they know where we are, and they know we couldn’t start out in a storm like this.” 269

“Maybe they’ll come for us with a motor,” suggested Patty.

“They might if we were nearer. But a motor would get stalled before it could get over here and back again in these drifts. It’s an awful storm, Patty, and the sooner you make up your mind that we can’t go home to-night, the better for all concerned.”

“My mind’s made up, then,” and Patty danced about the room. “I don’t mind a bit! I think it’s a lark. Do you have feather beds, Mrs. Fay?—I mean the kind you climb up to with step-ladders.”

“Land no, child! We ain’t old-fashioned folks, you know. We have springs and mattresses just like you do at home. Well, I’m sorry if your folks are worried, but I’m glad to have you young people stay the night. Maybe this evening, you’ll sing for us some more.”

“We will,” said Philip. “We’ll sing everything we know, and then make up some.”

Once having made up her mind to the inevitable, Patty ceased bothering about it, and proceeded to enjoy herself and to entertain everybody else. She chatted pleasantly with the old lady, she coquetted with Philip, and 270 finally wandered out into the kitchen to make friends with Eliza.

“Let me help you get supper,” she said, for, to tell the truth, the novelty of the situation had passed, and Patty began to feel a little bored.

“Supper ain’t nothin’ to get, miss,” returned Eliza, a rawboned, countrified girl who was shy in the presence of this city lady.

“Well, let me help you, anyway. Mayn’t I set the table?”

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t know where the things was. Here, take this dish and go down cellar for the butter, if so be’s you have to do somethin’. It’s in a kag, underneath the swing-shelf.”

“Swing-shelf?” said Patty, interested—“what is a swing-shelf?”

“Why, a shelf hanging from the ceiling, to keep things on.”

“But why does it hang from the ceiling? I never heard of such a thing.”

“Why, so the rats or mice can’t get at the things.”

“Rats or mice!” and Patty gave a wild scream. “Here, take your plate, Eliza. I wouldn’t go down there for a million billion dollars!” 271

Patty ran back to the sitting-room. “Oh, Philip,” she cried, “they have rats and mice! Can’t we go home? I don’t mind the storm!”

“There, there, Patty,” said Philip, meeting her half-way across the room, and taking her hand in his. “Don’t be silly!”

“I’m not silly! But I can’t stay where they keep rats and mice! Why, Philip, they expect them. They build high shelves on purpose for them.”

“You must excuse this little girl, Mrs. Fay,” said Philip. “She’s really sensible in most ways, but she’s an absolute idiot about mice, and she can’t help it. Why, the other night——”

Patty drew her hand away from Philip’s clasp, and put it over his mouth. “Stop!” she said, blushing furiously. “Don’t you say another word! I’m not afraid of mice, Mrs. Fay.”

“There, there, child; I know you are, and I don’t blame you a mite. I am, too, or leastways, I used to be. I’ve kinder got over it of late years. But I know just how you feel. Now, let me tell you; honest, never a mouse dares show the tip of his nose outside the cellar! If you don’t go down there, you’re as safe as you would be ............