176 THE GARDEN OF A 



shoes, while the whistling wind nearly drowned his 

 voice, " and this time yesterday you were sitting out 

 on the porch, Barbara, and I was driving without 

 an overcoat." 



The telephone bell rang, blessed nuisance ! Evan 

 was detained in town, but would arrive at nine ; we 

 were not to wait dinner, and the storm was not yet 

 bad at that end of the line. This comforting mes- 

 sage was the last word the telephone uttered for 

 five days. 



At a quarter to ten Evan came home, snow hang- 

 ing to his face, bearding it white as Santa Claus. 

 After a bit of supper we all went to bed, feeling a 

 strange sensation of suppressed excitement, for the 

 wind was shrill as when keyed by a ship's rigging, 

 in "spite of the muffling snow that fell with a posi- 

 tive sifting sound. Bluff and Lark, who usually 

 slept on the door mats in the lower hall, insisted 

 upon coming upstairs, whining and fidgeting until 

 in self-defence we let them in, when Lark crawled 

 behind the lounge, and Bluff stretched himself beside 

 my bed, whence he arose at intervals to lick my hand 

 or nose as if in assurance of protection. 



This morning there were none of the usual 

 sounds of day. About these, however, the commuter 

 troubles himself but little on Sunday. The dense 



