oed in the children's happy voices.

So they ate their dinner together, and sang and talked until it was
time to go to bed. Joe went out to make all snug about 'Liza for the
night and to give her an extra feed. He stopped in the door, coming
back, to shake the snow out of his clothes. It was coming on with bad
weather and a northerly storm, he reported. The snow was falling thick
already and drifting badly. He saw to the kitchen fire and put the
children to bed. Long before the clock in the neighboring church tower
struck twelve, and its doors were opened for the throngs come to
worship at the midnight mass, the lights in the cottage were out, and
all within it fast asleep.

The murmur of the homeward-hurrying crowds had died out, and the last
echoing shout of "Merry Christmas!" had been whirled away on the
storm, now grown fierce with bitter cold, when a lonely wanderer came
down the street. It was a lad, big and strong-limbed, and, judging
from the manner in which he pushed his way through the gathering
drifts, not unused to battle with the world, but evidently in hard
luck. His jacket, white with the falling snow, was scant and worn
nearly to rags, and there was that in his face which spoke of hunger
and suffering silently endured. He stopped at the gate in the stone
fence, and looked long and steadily at the cottage in the chestnuts.
No life stirred within, and he walked through the gap with slow and
hesitating step. Under the kitchen window he stood awhile, sheltered
from the storm, as if undecided, then stepped to the horse shed and
rapped gently on the door.

"'Liza!" he called, "'Liza, old girl! It's me--Jim!"

A low, delighted whinnying from the stall told the shivering boy that
he was not forgotten there. The faithful beast was straining at her
halter in a vain effort to get at her friend. Jim raised a bar that
held the door closed by the aid of a lever within, of which he knew
the trick, and went in. The horse made room for him in her stall, and
laid her shaggy head against his cheek.

"Poor old 'Liza!" he said, patting her neck and smoothing her gray
coat, "poor old girl! Jim has one friend that hasn't gone back on him.
I've come to keep Christmas with you, 'Liza! Had your supper, eh?
You're in luck. I haven't; I wasn't bid, 'Liza; but never mind. You
shall feed for both of us. Here goes!" He dug into the oats-bin with
the measure, and poured it full into 'Liza's crib.

"Fill up, old girl! and good ni