hires. Her
cheeks were rosy above the dark fur collar of her coat, and even if she
was his sister, Bobby had to admit that she was very pretty.

"Sure we've had fun on these skates," he agreed heartily. "You skate
fine now, Meg, honest you do."

Meg was pleased, as what little sister would not be?

"Well I'm glad I learned," she answered. "What's that over there,
Bobby?"

She pointed to something fluttering from a bush on the other side of
the pond.

"Let's go and look," said Bobby. And then, as they came up to it, he
said: "Oh, it's an old skating cap. Guess some one lost it and they've
hung it there so he'll see it."

At the head of the pond they came to the creek. This, too, was frozen
over solidly, and, joining hands, Meg and Bobby began to follow its
winding way.

"'Member how it looks in the summer time?" asked Meg. "These bushes
meet across it then."

Great high banks of snow rose on either side of the creek, and when
they reached the twin oaks, so called because the two trees had grown
together to form one trunk, where they must turn off to reach Mrs.
Anson's house, Meg and Bobby had trouble finding a foothold.

They took off their skates and managed to scramble up the bank,
however, and then found themselves in a field of snow, unbroken save
for a few little dots and dashes that they recognized as rabbit tracks.

"They don't clean off their walks, do they?" giggled Meg. "How do you
tell where Mrs. Anson's house is?"

"See the chicken wire sticking up?" replied Bobby. "And there's smoke
coming out of her chimney."

Sure enough, at a distance across the field the children could see
rough posts sticking up which they knew were part of the chicken-yard
fence. Soft, black smoke was coming out of a chimney, too, and
drifting against the sky.

Walking single file, and glad of their rubber boots, the two children
tramped over the field and came presently to the shabby, lonesome
little house where Mrs. Anson lived.

"My land!" she cried when she saw them. "I was just thinking about
your Ma this morning. My man's been away all week cutting wood, or I'd
have sent him down with some eggs. I suppose you want two dozen and a
half, Bobby?"

While Mrs. Anson bustled about packing the eggs in a neat box, the
children warmed their hands and drank the hot cocoa she had ready for
them.

"Made it for my man, but he sent word he won't be back till to-morrow
morning," she explained. "There's your