He peered inside it now and shivered; he didn’t
know why. He looked round and listened. Silence. He would have heard his mother’s chair, so he knew she was still in her room, working.
He felt excited and wondered why. It’s only a toy!
He licked his lips. He felt nervous, and again he
couldn’t imagine why he should. He put his hand out and lifted the snowstorm and swirled it around as the old man had done.
The snow in the bottom stirred sluggishly and then
settled again. Luke’s heart seemed to plummet down into his trainers. Oh no. He shook the snowstorm vigorously. Still nothing. He crashed it down. His temper, always volatile, was rising. He picked it up again and raised his arm to throw it across the room, when suddenly a voice exclaimed, “Don’t!” "
He almost dropped it. He whirled around. There was
no one there. Then he nearly dropped it again when the voice said, “Wait. Wait until dusk.”
87