ently holding her coat, there came a
light tap at the door.

"It is Mr. Daniels," said Carol. "I know his knock. Come in, Father
Daniels. I knew it was you."

The old elder from next door, his gray hair standing in every direction
from the wind he had encountered bareheaded, his little gray eyes
twinkling bright, opened the door.

"You crazy kids aren't going down to that Hollow a night like this," he
protested.

They nodded, laughing.

"Well, David can't go," he said decidedly. "That's a bad cold he's
got, and it's been hanging on too long. I can't go myself for I can't
walk, but I'll call up my son-in-law and make him go. So take off your
hat, Parson, and-- No you come over and read the Bible to me while the
young folks go gadding. I need some ministerial attention myself,--I'm
wavering in my faith."

"You, wavering?" demanded David. "If no one ever wavered any harder
than you do, Daniels, there wouldn't be much of a job for the
preachers. And you say for me to let Carol go with Dick? What are you
thinking of? I tell you when any one goes gadding with Carol, I am the
man." Then he added seriously: "But really, I've got to go to-night.
We're just getting hold of the folks down there and we can't let go.
Otherwise, I should make Carol stay in. But the boys in her class are
so fond of her that I know she is needed as much as I am."

"But that cough--"

"Oh, that cough is all right. It will go when spring comes. I just
haven't had a chance to rest my throat. I feel fine to-night. Come on
in, Baldwin. Yes, we are ready. Still snowing? Well, a little snow--
Here, Carol, you must wear your gaiters. I'll buckle them."

A little later they set out, the three of them, heads lowered against
the driving snow. There were no cars running across country, and
indeed not even sidewalks, since it was an unfrequented part of the
town with no residences for many blocks until one reached the little,
tumbledown section in the Hollow. Here and there were heavy drifts,
and now and then an unexpected ditch in the path gave Carol a tumble
into the snow, but, laughing and breathless, she was pulled out again
and they plodded heavily on.

In spite of the inclement weather, the tiny house--called a mission by
grace of speech--was well and noisily filled. Over sixty people were
crowded into the two small rooms, most of them boys between the ages of
twelve and sixteen, laughing, coughing, dragging their feet, s