The wind did the rest. It almost blew the door off its
hinges, carrying Mr. and Mrs. Crow back against the wall. A gale of snow
swept over them.
"Gee!" gasped Anderson, crimping his toes. Mrs. Crow was peering under
his arm.
"Look there!" she cried. Close to the door a large bundle was lying.
"A present from some one!" speculated Mr. Crow; but some seconds passed
before he stooped to pick it up. "Funny time fer Santy to be callin'
'round. Wonder if he thinks it's next Christmas."
"Be careful, Anderson; mebby it's an infernal machine!" cried his wife.
"Well, it's loaded, 'y ginger," he grunted as straightened up in the
face of the gale. "Shut the door, Eva! Cain't you see it's snowin'?"
"I'll bet it was Joe Ramsey leavin' a sack o' hickor' nuts fer us," she
said eagerly, slamming the door.
"You better bolt the door. He might change his mind an' come back fer
'em," observed her husband. "It don't feel like hickor' nuts. Why, Eva,
it's a baskit--a reg'lar clothes baskit. What in thunder do--"
"Let's get a light out by the kitchen fire. It's too cold in here."
Together they sped to the kitchen with the mysterious offering from the
blizzard. There was a fire in the stove, which Anderson replenished,
while Eva began to remove the blankets and packing from the basket,
which she had placed on the hearth. Anderson looked on eagerly.
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