hen a high wind which drifted it here and
there between the hills and made some of the roads impassable for the
time. Many of the lanes were filled full, and some of the folk had to
be dug out, because the snow had covered their doors.

There was no end to the great balls which were rolled along the streets.
A strong fort was built on the square beside the pump, which was
fiercely attacked and bravely defended, and battles were fought through
all the streets before the snow was trodden into black slush beneath the
feet of the combatants. Even the dreaded "kink-hoast" (whooping-cough)
failed to keep some of the bolder spirits out of the fray, and those of
them who took the fun in moderation were none the worse, but rather the
better for the rally.

But Marjorie saw none of this, and she longed to see it all; and though
she had been less ill with the cough than some of the others had been,
she lost ground now, refused her food, and grew fretful and listless as
Allison had never seen her before.

It was hard for the eager little creature to listen quietly to all her
brothers had to tell of what was going on among the young folk of the
town. They boasted of Robin's strength and skill, and of Jack's
unequalled prowess when "snawba'ing" was the order of the day, and she
wanted to see it all. And she longed to see the rush of the full burn
and the whiteness of all the hills. Allison looked at her with a great
longing to comfort her, but what could she say? Even the mother thought
it wisest to listen in silence to the child's murmurs.

"But it's no' just the snawba'ing and the white hills I am thinking
about, mother. This is the way it will ay be, all my life long. I must
just sit still and hear the sound of things, and never be in the midst
of them like other folk. All my life, mother! Think of it!"

"My dear," said her mother gravely, "all your life may not be a very
long time."

"But, mother, I would like it to be long. There is Robin going to be a
great scholar and astonish the whole world; and Jack is going in search
of adventures; and Davie's going to America to have a farm of a thousand
acres, all his own. And why should I have to stay here, and not even
see the snawba'ing, nor the full burn, nor the castle that the boys
made?"

As a general thing Mrs Hume left her little daughter's "why"
unanswered, only trying to beguile her from such thoughts to the
enjoyment of what was left to her in her quiet li