Talk of the play, and of Ned's condition, occupied much of the remaining
time consumed in the run to the woods, and when the tall chestnut trees of
Tanglewood Park finally faced the strip of road the Fire Bird was
covering, snowflakes were beginning to fall. And so fiercely did the winds
blow, that presently Nat had all he could do to manage the machine.
"No jollying about this," he made out to say, "I guess it's to the castle
for ours, whether we want to hunt ghosts or owls."
"Oh, will we really have to go in that dreadful place?" wailed Tavia. "I
think I would as soon die of freezing as die--"
"Of scaring," interrupted Tom, laughing. "Well, there is no immediate
cause for alarm in either direction," he went on, "but I think it will be
a good idea to get out of this gale as quickly as possible."
It surely was a gale now, and the wind seemed so solidified with the
biting specks of snow, that Dorothy and Tavia were quite satisfied to
bury their frost-bitten faces deep in the fur of muffs and scarfs, while
the young men turned up their overcoat collars and turned down the flaps
of the heavy auto caps, none too heavy, however, to keep out the
discomforts of the newly arrived blizzard.
Straight for the drive to the castle Nat directed the machine, and by the
time the old broken-down steps of the once spacious porch were reached,
even Tavia was glad to jump out of the Fire Bird and get her breath in a
secluded part of the old balcony.
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