cut up into
drawing-books for them."

A little hope went a long way with Madam Liberality, and she began to
take heart. At the same time she felt her illness more keenly now
there was no need for concealing it. She sat over the fire and inhaled
steam from an old teapot, and threaded beads, and hoped she would be
allowed to go to church next day, and to preside at her Christmas-tree
afterwards.

In the afternoon her throat grew rapidly worse. She had begged--almost
impatiently--that Darling would not leave the Christmas preparations
to sit with her, and as talking was bad for her, and as she had
secret preparations to make on her own account, her mother had
supported her wish to be left alone.

But when it grew dusk, and the drawing-books were finished, Madam
Liberality felt lonely. She put a shawl round her head, and went to
the window. There was not much to be seen. The fields were deeply
buried in snow, and looked like great white feather beds, shaken up
unequally against the hedges. The road was covered so deeply that she
could hardly have traced it, if she had not known where it was. How
dark the old church tower looked amid so much whiteness!

And the snow-flakes fell like sugar-plums among the black trees. One
could almost hear the keen wind rustling through the bending sedges by
the pond, where the ice looked quite "safe" now. Madam Liberality
hoped she would be able to get out before this fine frost was over.
She knew of an old plank which would make an admirable sledge, and she
had a plan for the grandest of winter games all ready in her head. It
was to be called Arctic Discovery--and she was to be the chief
discoverer.

As she fancied herself--starving but scientific, chilled to the bone,
yet undaunted--discovering a north-west passage at the upper end of
the goose pond, the clock struck three from the old church tower.
Madam Liberality heard it with a pang. At three o'clock--if he had
had her shillings--she would have been expecting the return of the
carrier, with the presents for her Christmas-tree.

Even as she thought about it, the old hooded waggon came lumbering
down among the snow-drifts in the lane. There was a bunch of mistletoe
at the head, and the old carrier went before the horse, and the dog
went before the carrier. And they were all three up to their knees in
snow, and all three had their noses down, as much as to say, "Such is
life; but we must struggle on."

Poor Madam Liberality! Th