CHAPTER X


November, with its whispered promises of winter fun, was past, and the
Christmas month, with snow and ice, had been ushered in. Usually in
the latitude of Boyd City, the weather remains clear and not very cold
until the first of the new year; but this winter was one of those
exceptions which are met with in every climate, and the first of
December brought zero weather. Indeed, it had been unusually cold for
several weeks. Then, to make matters worse, a genuine western blizzard
came howling across the prairie, and whistled and screamed about the
streets, from which it had driven everything that could find a place
of shelter. The stores on Broadway were vacant, save a few shivering
clerks. In the offices, men sat with their feet on the stove and called
to mind the biggest storms they had ever known; while street cars stood
motionless and railway trains, covered with ice and snow, came puffing
into the stations three or four hours behind time. In spite of the
awful weather, George Udell spent the evening at the Wilson home on
the east side. He had not seen Clara for nearly two weeks and the hour
was rather late when he arose to prepare for the long, cold walk to
his boarding house. "And I must wait, Clara?" he asked again, as they
stood in the hallway, and the girl answered rather sharply, "Yes, you
must wait. I do wish you would be sensible, George." The printer made
no reply, but paused for some time with his hand on the door-knob, as
though reluctant to leave her in such a mood. Then with an "Alright,
goodnight," he stepped out into the storm, his mind filled with bitter
thoughts that had best be left unspoken. The man did not know how heavy
was the heart of the girl who stood at the window watching long after
his form had vanished into the night.