have no doubt. What'll become of them foolish girls--Why, Peke! who's
these two young ladies?"

Mr. Morton looked to Mr. Snubbins for an introduction, scratching his
head. Mr. Snubbins said, succinctly: "These here gals are from a railroad
train that's snowed under down there in the cut. I expect they air
hungry, Miz' Morton."

"Goodness me! Is that so?" cried the good woman, bustling forward and
jerking her spectacles down astride her nose, the better to see the
unexpected guests. "Snowed up--a whole train load, did you say? I
declare! Sit down, do. I won't haf to put any extry plates on the supper
table, for I _did_ have it set, hopin' Sallie an' Celia would come back,"
and the poor mother began to sob openly.

"I vow, Maw! You _do_ beat all. Them gals couldn't git back home through
this snow, if they wanted to. And they likely got to some big town or
other," said Mr. Morton, "before the worst of the blizzard. They've got
money; the silly little tykes! When they have spent it all, they'll be
glad to come back."

"Celia will, maybe," sobbed Mrs. Morton, brokenly. "She ain't got the
determination of our Sallie. She'd starve rather than give in she was
beat. We was too ha'sh with her, Paw. I feel we was too ha'sh! And maybe
we won't never see our little gal again," and the poor lady sat down
heavily in the nearest chair, threw her apron over her head, and cried in
utter abandon.