by side. "Eastshore has a
nifty little fire department I'm ready to admit, but it can't climb
a snow bank even with the new chemical engine."

The boys found the day unexpectedly long. Hitherto they had worked
three or four hours after school and the one Saturday they had
shoveled had been at the end of their task so that they had been
able to quit at noon. But, although they were genuinely tired long
before night--and the noon rest had never been so appreciated!--not
one of them suggested giving in or knocking off an hour or two
earlier. They worked so steadily and to such good purpose that by
half-past four, when Rosemary and Sarah appeared with hot coffee and
sandwiches, the most congested area in Plummers Lane was
comparatively clear.

"Gee, Rosemary, you certainly are all right!" approved Jack as he
held the can for her while she ladled out coffee. "I never was so
hungry in my life."

"They're chicken sandwiches and turkey, too," said Rosemary,
smiling. "Winnie said if you couldn't go on the sleigh ride she'd
see to it that you had something extra good to eat."

The hungry boys fell upon Winnie's sandwiches with a vigor that
would have done her heart good, and the coffee disappeared
magically. When the last drop was gone and the last crumb vanished,
Jack insisted that the girls start for home.

"It's getting dark now," he said, "and Hugh won't like it if you are
out late down here. I'd walk home with you, but we want to finish;
we're not going to quit till we get to the end of the street.
There's a fire hydrant there."

Rosemary and Sarah, carrying the empty coffee can and the basket
that had been packed with sandwiches, walked slowly toward home,
Sarah audibly regretting that they had left the sled at the house.

"We could have a good coast, before dinner," she argued, walking
backward, an accomplishment of which she was exceedingly proud.

Pride, as often happens, went before a fall, in this instance, a
collision. Sarah, heedless of Rosemary's cry of warning, walked into
a stout, silver-haired gentleman in a fur-collared coat.

"Bless my soul, what's this?" he asked in astonishment, looking down
at the small girl who had bumped into his knees.

"How do you do Mr. Jordan?" said Rosemary respectfully, recognizing
the president of the Common Council.

"Why it's Rosemary Willis!" beamed Mr. Jordan. "And Sarah, as I
live. Where are you going my dears?"

"We're going home," explained Rosemary. "We took