Jean of GreenacresForrester, Izola L. (Izola Louise)
General
Jean of Greenacres
Forrester, Izola L. (Izola Louise)
Artists -- Juvenile fiction; Family -- Juvenile fiction; New England -- Juvenile fiction
“You’ll never get to school today, girls,” Mrs. Gorham declared.
“Couldn’t get through them drifts for love nor money. ’Twouldn’t be
human, nuther, to take any horse out in such weather. Like enough the
mailman won’t pull through. Looks real pretty, don’t it?”
“And, just think, Mother and Father are in summerland,” Helen said,
standing with her arm around Jean at the south window. “I wish winter
wouldn’t come. I’m going to follow summer all around the world some time
when I’m rich.”
“Helenita always looks forward to that happy day when the princess shall
come into her own,” Kit sang out, gleefully. “Meantime, ladies, I want
to be the first to tell the joyous tidings. The pump’s frozen up.”
“Shad’ll have to take a bucket and go down to the spring then, and break
through the ice,” Mrs. Gorham said, comfortably. “After you’ve lived up
here all your life, you don’t mind such little things. It’s natural for
a pump to freeze up this sort of weather.”
“You know,” Kit said darkly to Jean, a few minutes later, in the safety
of the sitting room, “I’m not sure whether I want to be an optimist or
not. I think sometimes they’re perfectly deadly, don’t you, Jean? I left
my window open at the bottom last night instead of the top, and this
morning, my dear child, there was snow on my pillow. Yes, ma’am, and
when I told that to Mrs. Gorham, she told me it was good and healthy for
me, and I ought to have rubbed some on my face. Let’s pile in a lot of
wood and get it nice and toasty if we do have to stay in today. Who’s
Shad calling to?”
Outside they heard Shad’s full toned voice hailing somebody out in the
drifts, and presently Piney came to the door stamping her feet. She wore
a pair of Honey’s old “felts,” the high winter boots of the men folks of
Gilead, and was muffled to her eyebrows.
“I walked over this far anyway,” she said happily. “Couldn’t get through
with the horse. I wondered if we couldn’t get down to the mill, and
borrow Mr. Peckham’s heavy wood sled, and try to go to school on that.”
“We can’t break through the roads,” objected Doris.
“They’re working on them now. Didn’t you hear the hunters come up in the
night? The barking of the dogs wakened us, and Mother said there were
four big teams going up to the camp.”
Just then the door opened and Shad came in with the morning’s milk, his
face aglow, his breath steaming.
“Well, it does beat all,” he exclaimed, taking off his mittens and
slapping his hands together. “What do you suppose? It was dark last
night and snowing when I drove the cows up from the barnyard. They was
all huddled together like, and I didn’t notice them. Well, this morning
I found a deer amongst ’em, fine and dandy as could be, and he ain’t a
bit scared, neither. Pert and frisky and lying cuddled down in the hay
just as much at home as could be. Want to come see him? I’ve got a path
shoveled.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account