ng,
despite the state of the streets and the absence of cabs, made his way
along, and was eagerly welcomed. As Mr. Tom's companion he was to
spend the whole day there. Billiards, music, lunch, painting--they
would pass the time somehow. And meanwhile the gusts of wind rattled
the windows; and the whirling snow blurred out the sea; and Mr. Tom
kept on big fires.

Nan remained in her own room. When Madge went up to bring her down she
found her reading Thomas a Kempis.

'Frank has asked twice where you were,' Madge remonstrated.

'But that is not a command,' said Nan, with a smile. 'I should have
thought, judging by the sound, that you were being very well amused
below.'

Madge went away, and in about an hour after came back. She found that
her sister had put away _De Imitatione Christi_, and was at her desk.

'Writing! To whom?'

'To the Editor of the _Times_', said Nan, laughing at her sister's
instantaneous dismay.

'The _Times_? Are you going to turn a blue-stocking, Nan?'

'Oh no; it's only about blankets. You can read the letter; do you
think he will print it?'

This was the letter which Madge read, and which was written in a sort
of handwriting that some editors would be glad to see oftener:--

'Dear Sir--The Government interfere to punish a milkman who adulterates
milk with water; and I wish to put the question in your columns why
they should not also punish the manufacturers who dress blankets with
arsenic? Surely it is a matter of equal importance. Poor people can
get along without milk, unless there are very small children in the
house; but when they have insufficient food, and insufficient fire, and
scant clothes, and perhaps also a leaky roof, a good warm pair of
blankets is almost a necessity. You cannot imagine what a compensation
it is, especially in weather like the present; but how are the
charitably disposed to take such a gift to a poor household when it may
become the instrument of death or serious illness? Dear Sir, I hope
you will call upon the Government to put down this wicked practice; and
I am, yours respectfully, AN ENGLISH GIRL.'

'Oh, that's all right,' said Madge, who had feared that her sister had
taken to literature; 'that's quite the right thing for you. Of course,
a clergyman's wife must know all about blankets, and soup-kitchens, and
things.'

Nan flushed a little, and said quickly and with an embarrassed smile--

'I thought of putting in something about