"Well! what do you think it means?" demanded her chum. "And b-r-r-r! it's
cold. There isn't half enough steam on in this car."

Nan was scrambling into her outer garments. "I'll see about this in a
minute, Bess," she said, chuckling. "Maybe the sun's forgotten to rise."

Bess had managed to draw aside the curtain of the big window. She uttered
a muffled scream.

"Oh, Nan! It's sno-ow!"

"What? Still snowing?" asked her chum.

"No. It's all banked up against the pane. I can't see out at all."

"Goodness--gracious--me!" ejaculated Nan. "Do you suppose we're
snowed in?"

That was just exactly what it meant. The porter, his eyes rolling, told
them all about it. The train had stood just here, "in the middle of a
snow-bank," since midnight. It was still snowing. And the train was
covered in completely with the soft and clinging mantle.

At first the two chums bound for Tillbury were only excited and pleased
by the novel situation. The porter arranged their seats for them and Bess
proudly produced the box of lunch she had bought at Freeling, and of
which they had eaten very little.

"Tell me how smart I am, Nan Sherwood!" she cried. "Wish we had a cup of
coffee apiece."