and so lose their interest in him.

Indeed, it must be confessed that, sensible boy as he was, David himself
had some doubts as to the manliness of some of the work that fell to him
to do about this time, and did not care that his morning's occupations
should be alluded to often, before Jem and Ned. But he had no doubt as
to the help and comfort he was to his mother during these days, when she
needed both even more than he knew. It is a manly thing in a boy to be
his mother's "right hand," and David was that, and more than that,
during these happy days, when they were so much alone together.

For they were happy days to them all. In spite of work and weariness,
and anxiety, and a sudden sharp dread of something else harder to bear
than these, that came now and then to one at least of the household,
they were very happy days to them all.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Winter came early this year. Even before November was out, the
sleigh-bells were merrily ringing through all the country, and during
December more snow fell than had fallen during that month at any time
within the memory of "the oldest inhabitant." And after the snow came
the wind, tossing it hither and thither, and piling up mountainous
drifts in the hollows through which the North Gore road passed, before
it crossed Hardscrabble hill. It piled it up on Hardscrabble, too, and
on all the hills, so that even if Mr Inglis had been quite well, he
could hardly have made it the busiest season of the year in the way of
visiting his parishioners, as it was his custom to do.

For usually, at this time, the farmers may enjoy something besides work,
the busy season being over; and usually, too, the new farms and back
settlements are easy of access, when the ground is frozen and just
enough of snow has fallen to cover the roughness of the way. But this
year, too much snow had fallen, so that for weeks, there were in some
places, no roads at all; and over others, what with the drifts, and what
with the difficulty in the sleighs passing one another where the roads
were narrow, it would not have been pleasant, or even safe, to go. Mr
Inglis would have tried it, doubtless, if he had been quite well, but
the cold he had taken on the stormy night when old Mr Bent died, had
never quite left him. He did not call himself ill, though his nights
were restless, and his days languid, and if the weather had been fine,
he would have gone out as usual; but the snow that had fallen