ther."

But her mother had no power to speak; she could only lay herself down by
her wailing baby, quite exhausted. Sophy took up the child, and cared
for it and soothed it. She shut the door, to keep her brothers out of
the room, and in a little while she said again--

"What is it, mother? Can I do anything?"

"Yes, love; you must do all for me and your brothers. I am quite
unfitted for anything to-night. If I can keep quiet, I shall be better
to-morrow. Give me baby, and keep the boys out a little while. Oh! I
must get strong again!"

The house was quiet enough; the boys needed no bidding to stay out among
the falling snow; and Sophy, having covered the window, that her mother
might sleep, crept in behind the curtain to watch the snow-flakes.

Before it grew dark the earth was white as far as the eye could see; the
snow fell all night too, and when Sophy opened the door in the morning,
it lay on the threshold as high as her waist. In the single glimpse of
sunshine that flashed forth, how dazzling the earth looked! The fields
around, the valleys beneath, the river, the pond, and the hills beyond,
all were white.

"How beautiful!" she repeated many times. It was a little troublesome,
too, she was willing to acknowledge by the time she had gone backward
and forward through it to the spring for water, and to the wood-pile for
wood, to last through the day. It was neither pleasant nor easy to do
all that she had to do in the snow that morning; but little Sophy had a
cheerful heart and a willing mind, and came in rosy and laughing, though
a little breathless when all was done. She needed all her courage and
cheerfulness, for her mother was quite unable to rise; and whatever was
to be done either in the house or out of it, must be done by her to-day.

"I am afraid the storm may prevent the coming of the things your father
was to get for us," said her mother; "and, Sophy dear, you must make the
best of the little we have till I am strong again."

"Oh, mother, never fear; there's plenty," said the cheerful little
Sophy. "There's some meal and flour, and some tea and bread, and--
that's all," she added, coming to a sudden stop. She had not been
accustomed of late to a very well-stored pantry, yet even with her
limited idea of abundance she was a little startled at the scantiness of
the supply.

"There's no use in vexing mother, though," said she to herself; "if the
things don't come to-day, they will be