out into the cold, or were stupefied
by the hot air of the room. She had left a book at home that she was
impatient to get back to. At last the Doxology was sung, but the old
people lingered about the stove to greet each other, and Thea took her
mother's arm and hurried out to the frozen sidewalk, before her father
could get away. The wind was whistling up the street and whipping the
naked cottonwood trees against the telegraph poles and the sides of the
houses. Thin snow clouds were flying overhead, so that the sky looked
gray, with a dull phosphorescence. The icy streets and the shingle roofs
of the houses were gray, too. All along the street, shutters banged or
windows rattled, or gates wobbled, held by their latch but shaking on
loose hinges. There was not a cat or a dog in Moonstone that night that
was not given a warm shelter; the cats under the kitchen stove, the dogs
in barns or coal-sheds. When Thea and her mother reached home, their
mufflers were covered with ice, where their breath had frozen. They
hurried into the house and made a dash for the parlor and the hard-coal
burner, behind which Gunner was sitting on a stool, reading his Jules
Verne book. The door stood open into the dining-room, which was heated
from the parlor. Mr. Kronborg always had a lunch when he came home from
prayer-meeting, and his pumpkin pie and milk were set out on the
dining-table. Mrs. Kronborg said she thought she felt hungry, too, and
asked Thea if she didn't want something to eat.

"No, I'm not hungry, mother. I guess I'll go upstairs."

"I expect you've got some book up there," said Mrs. Kronborg, bringing
out another pie. "You'd better bring it down here and read. Nobody'll
disturb you, and it's terrible cold up in that loft."

Thea was always assured that no one would disturb her if she read
downstairs, but the boys talked when they came in, and her father fairly
delivered discourses after he had been renewed by half a pie and a
pitcher of milk.

"I don't mind the cold. I'll take a hot brick up for my feet. I put one
in the stove before I left, if one of the boys hasn't stolen it.
Good-night, mother." Thea got her brick and lantern, and dashed upstairs
through the windy loft. She undressed at top speed and got into bed with
her brick. She put a pair of white knitted gloves on her hands, and
pinned over her head a piece of soft flannel that had been one of Thor's
long petticoats when he was a baby. Thus equipped, she was ready