already
in sight, but to-day the wind was in the south, and the snow seemed
only part of a great picture.

"I do hope the cold 'll keep off a while longer," thought Mrs. Dallett.
"I don't know how I 'm going to get along after the deep snow comes."

The little dog suddenly waked, as if he had had a bad dream, and after
giving a few anxious whines he began to bark outrageously. His
mistress tried, as usual, to appeal to his better feelings.

"'T ain't nobody, Tiger," she said. "Can't you have some patience?
Maybe it's some foolish boys that's rangin' about with their guns."
But Tiger kept on, and even took the trouble to waddle in on his short
legs, barking all the way. He looked warningly at her, and then turned
and ran out again. Then she saw him go hurrying down to the bars, as
if it were an occasion of unusual interest.

"I guess somebody is comin'; he don't act as if 't were a vagrant kind
o' noise; must really be somebody in our lane." And Mrs. Dallett
smoothed her apron and gave an anxious housekeeper's glance round the
kitchen. None of her state visitors, the minister or the deacons, ever
came in the morning. Country people are usually too busy to go
visiting in the forenoons.

Presently two figures appeared where the road came out of the
woods,--the two women already known to the story, but very surprising
to Mrs. Dallett; the short, thin one was easily recognized as Abby
Pendexter, and the taller, stout one was soon discovered to be Mrs.
Hand. Their old friend's heart was in a glow. As the guests
approached they could see her pale face with its thin white hair framed
under the close black silk handkerchief.

"There she is at her window smilin' away!" exclaimed Mrs. Hand; but by
the time they reached the doorstep she stood waiting to meet them.

"Why, you two dear creatur's!" she said, with a beaming smile. "I
don't know when I 've ever been so glad to see folks comin'. I had a
kind of left-all-alone feelin' this mornin', an' I didn't even make
bold to be certain o' you, Abby, though it looked so pleasant. Come
right in an' set down. You 're all out o' breath, ain't you, Mis'
Hand?"

Mrs. Dallett led the way with eager hospitality. She was the tiniest
little bent old creature, her handkerchiefed head was quick and alert,
and her eyes were bright with excitement and feeling, but the rest of
her was much the worse for age; she could hardly move, poor soul, as if
she had only a make-believe