In the morning the panorama presented was one of unusual beauty. All nature was enveloped in snow of the purest white. The flats below were a dazzling sea in the bright sunlight. The two gaunt pines, through which the wind had sighed so dismally the night before, now appeared like white-robed sentinels on guard at the gate. The air was balmy and the drip, drip, drip of water from the eaves and window-ledges proclaimed that this vision of fairyland would be a transient one.
A happy group gathered around the breakfast table. Granny had instructed Margaret in the art of preparing buckwheat cakes and a smoking pile of them soon appeared. Her skill in the culinary art was proverbial. No one could make anything taste quite as Margaret could, and she was duly proud of her proficiency in this accomplishment.
