From dark till dawn the roar of the wind filled the night. Before
morning heavy drifts had wiped out the roads and sheeted the town in
virgin white unbroken by trails or furrows.
With the coming of daylight the tempest abated. Kusiak got into its
working clothes and dug itself out from the heavy blanket of white that
had tucked it in. By noon the business of the town was under way again.
That which would have demoralized the activities of a Southern city made
little difference to these Arctic Circle dwellers. Roads were cleared,
paths shoveled, stores opened. Children in parkas and fur coats trooped
to school and studied through the short afternoon by the aid of electric
light.
Dusk fell early and with it came a scatter of more snow. Mrs. Selfridge
gave a dinner-dance at the club that night and her guests came in furs
of great variety and much value. The hostess outdid herself to make
the affair the most elaborate of the season. Wally had brought the
favors in from Seattle and also the wines. Nobody in Kusiak of any
social importance was omitted from the list of invited except Gordon
Elliot. Even the grumpy old cashier of Macdonald's bank--an old bachelor
who lived by himself in rooms behind those in which the banking was
done--was persuaded to break his custom and appear in a rusty old dress
suit of the vintage of '95.
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