School lets out at four
o'clock, and it's almost dark then. There's no time for play, for
there's all that wood and kindling to get in, and Pap's awful cranky
when he hops out of bed these frosty mornings to light the fire, and
finds you've been skimpy with the kindling. And the pump freezes up,
and you've got to shovel snow off the walks and out in the back-yard
so Tilly can hang up the clothes when she comes to do the washing.
And your mother is just as particular about your neck being clean as
she is in summer when the water doesn't make you feel so shivery.
And there's the bottle of goose-grease always handy, and the red
flannel to pin around your throat, and your feet in the bucket of hot
water before you go to bed - Aw, put 'em right in. Yes, I know it's
hot. That's what going to make you well. In with 'em. Aw, child,
it isn't going to scald you. Go on now. The water'll be stone-cold
in a minute." Oh, I don't like winter for a cent. Kitchoo! There,
I've gone and caught fresh cold.
I wish it would hurry up and come spring.
"When the days begin to lengthen,
The cold begins to strengthen."
Now, you know that doesn't stand to reason. Every day the sun
inches a little higher in the heavens. His rays strike us more
directly and for a longer time each day.
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