Where are those old mittens of
mine? Annie, where's the snow shovel? Sure I am. Why
not?"
She shoveled and scraped and pounded, bending rhythmically
to the work, lifting each heaping shovelful with her strong
young arms, tossing it to the side, digging in again, and
under. An occasional neighbor passed by, or a friend, and
she waved at them, gayly, and tossed back their badinage.
"Merry Christmas!" she called, again and again, in reply to
a passing acquaintance. "Same to you!"
At two o'clock Bella Weinberg telephoned to say that a
little party of them were going to the river to skate. The
ice was wonderful. Oh, come on! Fanny skated very well.
But she hesitated. Mrs. Brandeis, dozing on the couch,
sensed what was going on in her daughter's mind, and roused
herself with something of her old asperity.
"Don't be foolish, child. Run along! You don't intend to
sit here and gaze upon your sleeping beauty of a mother all
afternoon, do you? Well, then!"
So Fanny changed her clothes, got her skates, and ran out
into the snap and sparkle of the day.
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