This went into the same oven and
pretty soon it rose up light and showed a beautiful brown crust, while
the pie was steaming through little fork holes on top, and sending out
most delicious odours.
At the last minute, when the table was set and everything ready to come
up, Willie ran up to look out of the scuttle, as he had every hour of
daylight since they were buried. In a moment came a wild shout down the
ladder.
"They're coming! Hurrah for old Tim!"
Mamma rushed up and looked out, and saw--to be sure--old Tim slowly
coming along over the crust, drawing after him a wood sled on which
were two men.
"It's papa!" shouted Willie, waving his arms to attract their attention.
"Willie!" came back over the snow in tones of agony. "Is that you? Are
all well?"
"All well!" shouted Willie, "and just going to have our Christmas
dinner."
"Dinner?" echoed papa, who was now nearer.
"Where is the house, then?"
"Oh, down here!" said Willie, "under the snow; but we're all right,
only we mustn't let the plum-pudding spoil."
Looking into the attic, Willie found that mamma had fainted away, and
this news brought to her aid papa and the other man, who proved to be a
good friend who had come to help.
Tim was tied to the chimney, whose thread of smoke had guided them
home, and all went down into the dark room.
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