“I do,” the child responded. “Anyway, I guess I do,” she added. “But—but couldn’t they spread it out a little thinner? Seems to me we must be getting it all at once. Why, I can’t see any of the walls or fences!” That was true enough. Uncle Joe had even to dig Prince out of his house that morning. After that, when it stormed, Prince was allowed to lie by the kitchen fire—certainly a great concession on Aunty Rose’s part. This was really the heaviest storm of the season, so far. When Carolyn May floundered to school, with Prince going in front to break the path, there was a huge bank of snow piled against one corner of the schoolhouse. This quite closed up the boys’ door, and only the girls’ entrance could be used. But the boys got to work at recess and tunnelled through the great drift, so that there was a passage to their door. The wind had packed the snow hard, and the crust had frozen, so there was a safe roof over the tunnel through the snow. At noon some of the girls went through the passage, too; and among them was Carolyn May. As she went down the steps she laughed gleefully, crying: “Oh, it’s like going into the subway, isn’t it?” “What’s the subway?” asked Freda Payne instantly. “You don’t mean to say you have snow tunnels like this in the city, do you? You said men carted the snow all away in wagons, or melted it. Can’t be much snow where you come from, Car’lyn May.” “Oh, no; not snow tunnels,” the city child explained. She had to do a good deal of explaining these days. “The subway’s just a hole in the ground, and you go down steps into it, and it’s all—all marble, I guess, ’cause it’s white and shiny. And trains come along, and you get on, and you ride all the way from One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street down to papa’s office, and——” “Oh, Car’lyn May Cam’ron!” shrieked Freda. “Trains under the ground?” demanded another of her schoolmates. “Yes,” said the little city girl. “Trains of _cars_? Like our trains up here?” “Ye-es,” said Carolyn May slowly, feeling that her tale was disbelieved. “My mercy!” declared the black-eyed girl. “That’s the biggest story you’ve told us yet. I’m going to tell my mamma about that. She says you’ve got such a ’magination. But I know _this_ is just plain fib, and nothing else—so there!” It hurt Carolyn May sorely to have her word doubted. She had begun to shrink from telling her little friends about any of the wonders which had been such commonplace matters to her when she had lived in New York. They simply could not believe the things the city child said were so. It was on this very day, and at noon time, when Mr. Stagg was returning to the store, that a most astounding thing happened. Had Mrs. Gormley seen it, that good woman would have had such a measure of gossip to relate as she had not enjoyed for a long time. It was, indeed, a most amazing occurrence.