e stove hearth, he read the story through.
"Oh, dear, me!" he said again.

"I want you to try to get me to Middletown, Walky," Janice said, with a
little catch in her voice. "Right away."

"Mercy on us, child! a day like this?" gasped her aunt.

"Why, the storm's over," said Janice, firmly. "And I must send some
telegrams and get answers. Oh, I must! I must!"

"Hoity-toity, Miss Janice!" broke in Walky. "'Must' is a hard driver,
I know. But I tell ye, we couldn't win through the drif's. Why, I
been as slow as a toad funeral gettin' up here from High Street. The
ox teams won't be out breakin' the paths before noon, and they won't
get out of town before to-morrer, that's sure, Miss."

"Oh, my dear!" cried her aunt, again. "You mustn't think of doing such
a thing. Wait."

"I _can't_ wait," declared Janice, with pallid face and trembling lip,
but her hazel eyes dry and hard. "I tell you I must know _more_."

"I can't take ye to Middletown, Janice. Not till the roads is broke,"
Walky said, firmly, shaking his head.

"Hi! here comes somebody else up the road," shouted Marty, from outside.

Janice ran, hoping to see a team. It was only a single figure
struggling through the snow.

"By jinks!" exclaimed Marty. "It's the teacher."

"It is Mr. Haley," murmured Janice.

The young collegian, well dressed for winter weather, waved his hand
when he saw them, and struggled on. He carried a long parcel and when
he went through the more than waist-high drifts he held this high above
his head.

"Hi, there!" yelled Marty, waving his mittened hands. "Ain't you lost
over here, Mr. Haley?"

"I see somebody has been before me," laughed Nelson Haley, following
Walky Dexter's tracks over the fence and up to the cleared porch. "How
do you do, Miss Janice? A very happy Christmas to you!"

"Thank you for your good wish, Mr. Haley," she replied, soberly. "But
it is not going to be a very glad Christmas for me, I fear. Oh! is it
for _me_?" for he had thrust the long pasteboard box into her arms.

"If you will accept them, Miss Janice," returned the young man, with a
bow.

"Open it, Janice!" exclaimed Marty. "Let's see."

"I--I----"

"Lemme do it for you," cried Marty, the curious. He broke the string,
yanked off the paper, and Janice herself lifted the cover. A great
breath of spicy odor rushed out at her from the box.

"Oh! Mr. Haley! Cut flowers! _Hothouse flowers_! Wherever did you
get them?" c