" Oh no. The snow keeps everything nice and warm," replied her mother with a kiss.
Davis, the portly butler, advanced and opened the front door.
" Being above the snow doesn't keep me nice and warm, Mother," called back Rosella as she ran laughing down the steps into the icy north wind, which blew her dark hair out to its full length and heightened the warm colour in her cheeks.
" Make haste, and you'll be there in half-an-hour." Mrs. Silverton returned to her boudoir, and standing at the bow-window followed with loving eyes the graceful little red figure, until at a bend in the road it turned, gaily waved a farewell, and was lost to sight.
When Rosella reached the moor the high wind was against her, blowing her frock between her knees and making her eyes water. " This way will be very difficult and unpleasant," she thought to herself. " I'd far rather go round by the hill, and then, too, I could see if Grandfather has got the Snow Castle on the top finished and ready for tomorrow—I forgot about that when Mother said to go across the moor. I should so like to see it —I wonder if I might! "
She stood irresolute for a moment, then left the straight path and started running, in order to save time, in the other direction: thus making for the hill which she intended to climb.