ond's?"

"What lies on his own ground, I should say. Why don't he have some one
come to do it?"

"I don't know," said Matilda; and she looked grave now. "I don't know
who there is to come to do it."

"There are people enough to do anything for money," said Norton. "Don't
he have somebody come to do it?"

"I don't know," said Matilda. "If he had, I do not think he would do it
himself."

"Then he gets very shabby treatment," said Norton; "that's all. I tell
you, shovelling snow is work; and cold work at that."

"I suppose the people can't give great pay to their minister," said
Matilda.

"Then they can come and clear away the snow for him. They have hands
enough, if they haven't the cash. I wonder if they let him do it for
himself always?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if I was a minister," said Norton, "which I am glad I'm not, I'd
have a church where people could give me enough pay to keep my hands
out of the snow!"

"Hush!" said Matilda. "Breakfast is ready, and Mr. Richmond is coming
in."

The little dining-room was more pleasant than ever that morning. The
white brightness that came in through the snowy air seemed to make fire
and warmth and breakfast particularly cosy. And there was a hush, and a
purity, and a crisp frost in the air, filling that Sunday morning with
especial delights. But Mr. Richmond eat his breakfast like a man who
had business on hand.

"Norton thinks there will not be many people at church, Mr. Richmond."

"There will be one," said Mr. Richmond. "And that he may get there, I
have a good deal of work yet to do."

"More snow, sir?" inquired Norton.

"All the way from here to the church porch."

"Won't somebody come to do it, sir, and save you the trouble?"

"I can't tell," said the minister laughing. "Nobody ever did yet."

Norton said nothing; but Matilda was very much pleased that after
breakfast he took a spade and joined Mr. Richmond in his work. Matilda
never forgot that day. The snow continued to fall; flickering
irregularly through the pine leaves and leaving a goodly portion of its
stores gathered on the branches and massing on the tufts of foliage.
Elsewhere the fall of the white flakes was steady and thick as the
advance of an army of soldiers. No other resemblance between the two
things. This was all whiteness and peace and hush and shelter for
earth's needs. Matilda stood at the study window and watched it come
down; watched the two dark figures working away in the