CHAPTER 11 Into the Storm

INSIDE the Stone cabin, oil lamps had been lighted, so the Brownies could see the Christmas tree quite plainly. It stood at a slight angle in the window, its branches brushing against the icy panes.

“Why, it is our tree!” agreed Sunny indignantly. “Of all the nerve!”

“I don’t think the tree we selected for the birds was that tall,” protested Connie, after a second glance.

“Neither do I,” declared Eileen promptly. “Maybe it isn’t the same evergreen, even though it looks a little like it.”

The Brownies trudged on, deliberately breaking trail so that they would pass close to the Stone cabin.

“I still think it’s our tree,” insisted Jane when they were quite near the window.

“And I say it isn’t,” Eileen argued.

“Wait here!” Jane directed the Brownies. “I’ll find out for sure!”

Before Miss Gordon or the other girls could stop her, she scrambled over a big snowdrift and crept through the dark to the kitchen window. Half hidden by an ice-coated bush, Jane was able to look closely at the evergreen without being seen by anyone in the lighted room.

At first glance she saw that the tree was not the one which had been taken from Mr. Jeffert’s land, though it was a beautiful spruce.

The lower branches were a little scraggly, and viewed at close range, one side of the tree appeared slightly mis-shapen.

Satisfied that the evergreen was not the same one, Jane started to turn away. Then she waited a moment, for she saw the Stone children playing on the floor of the kitchen.

Mrs. Stone was setting food on the table for supper. One dish contained potatoes and another held turnips. Jane did not see anything else.

“Mom, may we have a new sled for Christmas?” she heard Barbara ask her mother.

“No, dear, and I’ve asked you not to keep pestering me about it,” sighed her mother wearily. “With your father out of work, we can’t afford toys this year. We’ll be lucky to keep food on the table.”

“Jane!” called Miss Gordon. She did not consider it proper for the little girl to peep through a window.

Jane quickly rejoined the Brownies. She knew she had not been seen by anyone in the cabin.

“It wasn’t the same tree,” she announced as the Brownies waited for her opinion.

“I thought it wouldn’t be,” declared Connie, while Miss Gordon nodded agreement.

“This proves that one shouldn’t leap to hasty conclusions,” added the leader of the Brownie troop. “How easy it is to misjudge a person.”

As the Brownies started on at a brisk pace toward the Gordon farm, Jane was rather quiet. She kept thinking about what she had heard Mrs. Stone tell Barbara.

Finally, she said: “Miss Gordon, I wish we could give the Stone family more than just a sled. They need all sorts of toys and Christmas food—turkey, cranberries, plum pudding and everything.”

The remark surprised Miss Gordon. She asked Jane why she thought the Stones might be in dire need.

“I heard Mrs. Stone say there would be no money for Christmas toys and maybe not any for food,” Jane related. “All they were having for supper was potatoes and turnips.”

“Oh, surely Mrs. Stone had other food prepared, Jane. Perhaps it was in the oven, or out of sight.”

“That’s all I saw at any rate.”

“What was the kitchen like?” inquired Connie curiously.

“I didn’t notice anything except the Christmas tree and the supper table. Miss Gordon called me before I had a chance to really see very much.”

Now what Jane had reported deeply troubled Miss Gordon. She promised the Brownies she would make inquiries before Christmas to learn if the Stones actually were in need.

“If they are, we’ll send a big basket of food,” she said. “However, the Stones have lived in this community many years and I understand, are quite proud. They might resent charity.”

“Will they be offended if we give them the sled, and perhaps a few other toys?” Connie asked anxiously.

“The children will enjoy the presents—I’m certain of that,” declared Miss Gordon.

After the Brownies reached Grandmother Gordon’s farmhouse they talked over what they could do to help the Stone children.

“We could stuff stockings and make them into dolls,” proposed Eileen eagerly.

“And we could bake things,” suggested Rosemary, who loved to cook. “That is, if Mrs. Gordon wouldn’t mind having us use her kitchen.”

“It’s yours for the asking,” laughed Mrs. Gordon.

The Brownies divided into two groups, one to sew and the other to work in the kitchen. Veve, Rosemary and Connie elected to cook, while the other girls sewed stocking dolls.

“What shall we make?” demanded Veve, after the three girls, wrapped in huge kitchen aprons, had taken possession of the kitchen.

“I have a recipe here for brownies,” said Miss Gordon. “You might start with that. Then if you like, we can make sand tarts and regular Christmas cookies, decorating them with red and green sugar, citron and candied cherry.”

“Are brownies a cookie too?” asked Veve, who never had done much cooking.

“A very rich and delicious variety,” declared the troop leader.

She set out the ingredients and gave the girls Mrs. Gordon’s favorite brownie recipe. It read:

1/3 cup shortening 1 cup sugar 2 eggs 2 squares chocolate 1/2 teaspoon vanilla 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup flour 1/3 cup chopped nut meats.

“I’ll chop the nuts!” offered Connie, digging in the kitchen cabinet drawer for the cracker.

Rosemary and Veve under Miss Gordon’s direction blended the sugar and the shortening.

“Now while you add the two eggs, I’ll step into the living room and see how our champion sewers are progressing,” Miss Gordon said.

Left to themselves, Veve and Rosemary scarcely knew how to add the eggs to the creamy white mixture.

“You break one and I’ll smash the other,” proposed Veve. “That way, we’ll both have a turn.”

Rosemary cracked her egg squarely in the middle and let the yolk and white drop into the pan. A tiny piece of shell fell in too, but she fished it out with a spoon.

“Now it’s my turn,” laughed Veve. Though she never had cracked an egg, she was sure it would be easy.

Selecting the largest one in the pan, she tapped it smartly against the table edge as she had seen Rosemary do.

Now Veve struck the egg much harder than she had intended. Instead of cracking, the shell shattered completely, and the egg splattered on the floor.

“Oh, Veve! See what you’ve done!” cried Rosemary.

“It just slipped,” said Veve contritely. “I didn’t mean to do it.” Then, because she realized she had made that same excuse many times before, she hung her head.

“Never mind, Veve,” returned Rosemary kindly. “I almost dropped my egg too.”

With Connie helping, the two girls tried to wipe up the egg with a cloth. It ran them a race on the linoleum. Finally, after washing out the rag several times, they were successful in cleaning up the mess.

“Now we’ll have to wash our hands and break another egg,” sighed Rosemary.

“It’s your turn again,” said Veve quickly. “I had mine.”

While Connie and Veve hovered near to offer moral support, Connie broke the egg and dropped it safely into the cookie mixture. As she was stirring it in, Miss Gordon returned to the kitchen.

“How are we coming?” she asked gaily.

Veve told her about the accident, but the Brownie leader only laughed.

“Grandmother Gordon has lots of eggs and won’t mind losing one,” she said. “Now let’s add the melted chocolate.”

With Miss Gordon there to watch, it was easy to finish up the brownie mixture. Veve and Rosemary added melted chocolate, salt and vanilla. Then Connie dumped in all the chopped nuts, after making certain there were no shells.

“Yum! Yum! It looks delicious!” she declared. “How long must we wait for it to bake, Miss Gordon?”

“About twenty minutes at moderate oven temperature.”

“What’s a moderate oven?” asked Rosemary, who never had heard the term.

“Usually that means about 350 degrees heat. Grandmother Gordon’s wood stove has no temperature control, so we’ll have to test it by guess.”

Miss Gordon opened the oven door and a blast of heat poured out into the kitchen. She thrust her hand into the cavern a moment and then withdrew it, closing the oven door.

“The temperature is about right now, I think,” she decided. “Grease the pan, and let’s pop those brownies right in.”

While the cookies baked, Connie, Veve and Rosemary wandered into the next room to see how Jane, Eileen and Sunny were progressing with their stocking dolls.

The work was nearly finished. Jane had created the funniest figure, tying the foot of her stuffed stocking into two long rabbit ears. With needle and red thread, she had stitched on big eyes, a nose, mouth and a few whiskers.

“I’m sure the Stone children will love these dolls and the cookies as well,” declared Miss Gordon. “As for the baskets of Christmas food, we’ll decide later on, whether or not to send them.”

Though the Brownie leader did not say so, she had talked the matter over the night before with Mrs. Gordon. They had been unable to agree on whether or not the Stones would resent receiving help. And Grandmother Gordon had argued that she still was unconvinced the Stones were a deserving family.

So the matter of sending a turkey and other substantial food, remained undecided.

During the next two days, the Brownies were too busy to leave the Gordon farm. They made decorations for the house, cut spruce boughs for the windows, and baked more cookies and made fancy candies.

Now, Mrs. Gordon had noticed that her supplies were beginning to dwindle. So late one afternoon she reminded Grandfather Gordon that if they were to have a Christmas feast, he must take the bobsled and drive to Goshen.

Grandfather Gordon stretched his long legs toward the crackling log and yawned. “Why drive all the way to Goshen?” he asked. “That’s nearly twenty miles. Can’t I get everything you want at Deerford?”

“The stores there never have what I need,” complained his wife. “This time I have a special list and it’s a long one.”

“Goshen it must be then,” sighed Grandfather Gordon. “I may as well start early in the morning.”

He telephoned Mr. Jeffert to ask if he might pick up anything for him at Goshen.

“I’ll ride along if you’ll stop for me,” Mr. Jeffert said. “Meet you at eight o’clock.”

Now the next morning before Grandfather Gordon hitched the horses, he remarked that the sky looked very dark.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if we’re in for a heavy snow before nightfall,” he told Grandmother Gordon. “I’ll get along as fast as I can.”

Soon after Mr. Gordon had driven away with the bobsled, the flakes began to flutter down. So fast did they fall that the entire sky seemed full of moist feathers.

The Brownies loved the snow. All morning they played out in it, building a hut near the barn.

However, by lunch time a sharp wind had sprung up, so that it no longer was pleasant to be out-of-doors.

Looking like ghosts in their heavily coated garments, the Brownies tramped into the house to toast themselves by the fire. The snow kept falling steadily, driving against the windows and banking up so that one could not readily see outside.

“I’ll be glad when Grandfather returns,” said Mrs. Gordon uneasily. “The storm is getting worse.”

“And the wind is drifting the snow,” added Miss Gordon.

Now the Brownies could see very plainly that both Mrs. Gordon and their leader were worried lest Grandfather Gordon and Mr. Jeffert have trouble getting home from Goshen.

Miss Gordon kept walking to the kitchen window to look at the main road.

“How long will the storm last?” Connie asked anxiously.

“That’s hard to say, dear,” replied the Brownie leader. “Usually not very long, but this one may be different. Once we had a blizzard which kept up three days and nights.”

“Three days!” gasped Connie. “But that would be until after Christmas!”

“I didn’t mean this storm will last that long,” said Miss Gordon quickly. “However, I am afraid it may keep us from taking the sled to the Stone children unless we do so at once.”

“Let’s go now,” urged Eileen.

“I believe that will be wisest,” agreed Miss Gordon. “We must dress warmly though, for it is steadily getting colder.”

While Grandmother Gordon wrapped the cookies and the stocking dolls in heavy paper, the Brownies scrambled into their snowsuits. Miss Gordon brought out the shiny new sled.

“Everyone ready?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob. “Now we must keep close together and walk fast. Brace yourselves!”

She thrust open the door and a wild flurry of snow whirled into the faces of the Brownies.