"Yes, thanks to those good boys," the widow replied. "Well, we will trust in Providence. Perhaps Willie may come back to us."
The day of the Y. M. C. A. entertainment proved to be one of the coldest of the winter. It dawned with a dull leaden sky, filled with lowering clouds, and there was a nip to the air that made thick wraps a necessity. The wind, which had been blowing strongly in the morning, increased in violence as the day advanced until by evening it was blowing half a gale.
But the boys and girls who crowded into the school auditorium did not mind this. It only made their cheeks redder, and though the wind did toss and tumble the hair of the girls it only caused them to look all the prettier, at least so Fenn thought, and he ought to know.
"B-r-r-r! It's a regular hurricane!" exclaimed Bart as he and Alice entered the hall, where they found a number of their friends. The entertainment had not yet begun.
"It must be getting colder," observed Ned.
"What makes you thing so?" asked Bart.
"Your nose is as red as a beet."
"It feels half frozen," Bart answered. "That comes of having such a big one. But it's a sign of greatness you know."
