The
snow had begun to fall so thickly that when she went to the window she
could not see the street. It was some comfort to turn on the electric
light, but it did not keep her from being cold and tired and hungry.
The clock said a quarter past six; in a few minutes more they would be
eating dinner at home. Somebody _must_ come; she couldn't stay there
all night.
She went to the door again and called "Bruce! Bruce!" till she was
tired. Slowly the hands of the clock moved on: seven; half-past;
eight. Her excited imagination began to bring to her mind all the
stories of burglars she had ever heard. Suppose some one should come
to rob the house, knowing the family were away! She was afraid to take
her eyes off the door, and much as she longed for release she almost
dreaded to see it open. She sat on the floor, pulling a great
bear-skin rug over her, and by and by she fell asleep with her head on
a chair. Then she dreamed that she was out in a sleigh in a furious
snow-storm. Carl was with her and Bruce was driving, and they were
chased by wolves. (This was probably suggested by the story she had
been reading, which was one of Russian adventure.) The wolves gained
upon them, though they seemed to be going like the wind; she felt
their hot breath on her face as they climbed over the back of the
sleigh.
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