"Whew!" whistled Tom. "This is something worth while for Christmas! I
never saw a storm develop any faster than this."
"Looks bad," commented Nat anxiously, for an automobile in a snowstorm is
not to be depended upon, "Hope it quits long enough for us to dash back
home."
"Well, we can't try it now, at any rate," replied Tom. "What do you say to
exploring?" and he went to the great, old oak door. "Open! Well, that's
luck," and as he spoke he pushed back the portal, although it seemed about
to fall, rather than swing on the rusty hinges.
The door opened, but no one attempted to enter the house. Nat looked in
gingerly, but the girls drew back to the shadow of a post, fearing
evidently some response to the intrusion.
"Oh, come on," suggested Tom. "Nobody's in here, and it's better, a good
sight, than being out in the storm."
Nat followed Tom's lead, and soon both young men had disappeared within
the old mansion.
The girls waited almost breathless--there was something so uncanny about
the place. But presently boyish shouts and merry calls from within assured
them that no trouble had been encountered, and it was Dorothy who proposed
that they follow and seek refuge from the winds, that found the girls'
ears and noses, in spite of the shelter of the old porch and the
protection of furs and wraps.
"Come on," suggested Dorothy.
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