against a windowpane could see only as far as the evergreen hedge
because the trees beyond were wreathed in whirling snowclouds. The dead
flowers in the garden were hidden under the blowing snow. The little
straight walk up to the door was lost in it, and the footprints Ivra and
Helma must have made when they went away were hidden too.

Something red blew against the hedge. For a minute Eric thought it was a
big bird. But it found the opening and came through, and then he saw it
was a little old woman. She came briskly up to the house, a red cape
blowing about her, sometimes right up over her head, for because of the
jug she was carrying she could not hold it down. She walked in without
stopping to knock and was as surprised to see Eric there as he was to
see her. But she got over it at once.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, going across the room, whisking a
pitcher out of the cupboard and emptying her jug of milk into it. "This
is the milk for them, and it's as much as ever that I got here with it.
The wind is in a fine mood-pushed me here and there all the way through
the wood, and tried to steal my cape from me, say nothing of Helma's
milk! Perhaps some of the Wind Creatures wanted them, or it might be old
Tree Man himself, looking for a winter cape for his daughter. But I
said, 'No, no. The milk is for Helma and little Ivra! I take it to them
every morning and I'll take it this morning whether or no, so pull all
you like--cape or milk you'll not get. The cape has a good clasp, and
I've a good hold of the jug. Pull away!"

Here the old woman--the pitcher put away, and the cupboard door
closed--dropped down on the settle and waited for Eric to speak. She was
a jolly little old woman, one could see at a glance. Her face was the
color of a good red apple, and just as round and shiny. Her eyes were