TRANSIT IT was just past midnight when someone knocked on the door and Helen woke Fred. "There's someone at the door," she said. "It's just the wind," he groaned sleepily, "go back to sleep." Then the noise came again and Fred swung his long legs out of the bed and put them on the cold floor and cursed the mountain country. He moved his feet around until they found his slippers and then he reached to the bottom of the bed where he had put his pants. He slipped them on over his pyjamas while outside Brother Meserve knocked again. The Cole's house was the middle point between his house and the village and he was cold and the horse was tired. Finally the thick door opened and Fred Cole's shoulders loomed before him and almost filled the doorway. Helen was standing on tiptoes, peeking over his shoulder. She had a faded print wrap-around over her thin white nightgown which hung below. Her hair was uncombed, and she looked sleepy and cross. "I wanted to call Lett," the preacher said. "There's such a storm tonight I'm afraid I shan't make it and I want to tell her I'm all right." "Come in," Fred said, and moved back from the door. Helen shivered and shut the door. Brother Meserve went over to the telephone and barely rang. "I'll call her softly so that if she's gone to bed, I hope she has, she won't be awakened," he said to the Coles while he listened. "Hello, Lett. Still up? I'm at Coles. I called you up to say goodnight from here. It'll be morning before I get there . . . I know, Lett I know. But the rest is down hill. It took three hours to get this far but the rest is easy . . . The horses are in the barn resting." An Adaptation from Robert Frost by Irene Bushell He waited a moment and when she didn't say anything he said "goodnight" and put up the receiver. The three sat around the table and Helen looked through the window where she could see the huge white flakes beating against the window. Soon she wouldn't be able to see outside. She hoped he wouldn't stay long. She was tired. "I'll just see how the horses are," the preacher said, and pushed his chair back until it scratched against the wall. "Yes, do," Fred said, and started to get up. "I want you here with me," Helen said to Fred. "You can find your way out through the shed, can't you Brother Meserve?" "Yes, I can find it alone," he said and stood up. I guess I know my way around these parts. But if I can't find my way I'll be able to find out who I am. I suppose my name is still out on the shed where I carved it." The man's eyes gleamed with the memory. "I remember I used to play" he began. 98 AUTUMN, 1942 "Go tend your horses," Helen said suddenly and Meserve opened the heavy door and went out. The wind blew in a pile of snow before Meserve could shut it. "Fred, you're not going to let him" Helen said, when the door shut. "How can I help myself?" "You know I detest the sight of him him with his ten children all under ten years old. And all that religion he dreamed up isn't up to much from what I've heard." Fred looked at the clock on the wall because it had just chimed once. Helen glanced at the clock. "It's one o'clock," she said. "He says he left the village at ten. Why, Fred that was three hours to do four miles." Then she softened. "Why, it doesn't seem as if a man could move that slow. She shivered when she thought of the storm outside. "Helen, don't make him go back out on a night like this." "What was he doing all this time anyway?" "He had to preach." "It's no night to be out." "He may be little, but he's tough." "And strong of stale tobacco. He'll get along." "There's no other house between here and his. I'm going to call his wife again and tell her." "No, Fred, wait. Let's see what he'll do. I don't think he'll even think about her again." "It's a stormy night, dear," Fred said, and looked into her eyes. "Oh, but he's always got to bring God into everything." "He doesn't consider this a case for God." "I bet right this minute he's out in the snow feeling sorry for himself and dreaming up his own little miracle." "Don't you want to see him safe?" "I believe you like the runt." "Don't you a little?" "I don't like what he's doing." "Oh yes you do. You like your fun as well as anyone. Only you women put on airs to impress men." Helen's eyes flashed at him. He put his hand on her shoulder. "All right, I'll leave it all up to you. Let him freeze an ear or two," he said. Fred turned his face toward the door. He had heard Meserve's crunching footsteps on the hardened snow outside. "Come in," he said. "How are the horses?" "Fine, fine," replied the little man. "My wife," Fred said and looked at Helen, "thinks you ought not to go out again." "No, don't go out again," Helen said, and Fred smiled at her. Meserve said nothing but stared at the lamp on the table. Leave it to your wife," Helen said. "What did she say?" The little old preacher looked into the distance. I shouldn't want to hurry you, Meserve. But if you are going you'd better leave now." Fred walked over and pulled the heavy blind aside. "It's certainly piling up out there." Yes, it is cold," Brother Meserve said and stood up. "This house is frozen stiff, all except this room you sit in. The wind isn't dying at all. I'll be going now." He opened the door and went out. "What kind of a man do you call that?" Helen said and went into the bedroom. Fred opened the door and went out with him to the barn and saw him off. "He could have stayed. We asked him. I won't rest until I know he's safe," he said as he undressed himself and sat down on the bed. "Get into bed and get some sleep," Helen said. "He won't come back. Even if he telephones it won't be for at least two hours. She turned with her face against the wall and closed her eyes. She opened them a few hours later because she heard someone talking. It was Fred telephoning in the dark, "Yes, Lett," he said. "Did she call you or did you call her?" Helen said, and got out of bed and didn't wait to put on a wrapper. "I want to speak to her." "All she said was he hadn't come home yet and she wondered if he had really started. She knew he had. "He had a shovel with him" "I should never have let him leave this house" "Don't begin that. We asked him to stay." "We didn't want him too, though." Helen took the receiver from his hand. She bit her lip, because she was sorry about it all. "Hello," she said. "Hello . . . hello . . . hello." "When I told her he had gone," Fred said, "she dropped the receiver. You can hear that big clock in the front room, so I know she didn't hang up." "You shout, she may hear you." "Shouting will do no good now." She slowly gave the receiver back. "You don't suppose she would go out after him, do you? And leave the children?" Helen looked at Fred and pleaded with her eyes for a right answer. "I don't know," he said. Helen took the receiver quickly and listened for a long time. "Take it," she said. "See if you can hear what I can." "It isn't talking" "It's a baby crying!" she said frantically. "Its mother wouldn't let it cry like that. She's gone out and it's all my fault!" They both sat down. "There's nothing we can do until morning," Fred said, and put his arm around her. After a minute he stood up and started into the bedroom again. "You can't go out there too, Fred. I won't let you." The telephone buzzed. "Hello," she said. Fred took the telephone. "Hello, Meserve. You're there, then. Your wife is she there?" He turned and smiled at his wife. "He says she went to let him in the barn." He spoke into the telephone. "Glad to hear that! Drop in again sometime." Helen was relieved. "I don't see why he had to stop here, anyway." "If you mean he was inconsiderate to wake us at midnight, I agree with you. But still let's forgive him. We've just one night in his life. Anyway, I'll bet he never calls again. What do you think?" 29