you think you ought to put on something more? It's very chilly
to-night."

"Not a rag. I'm hot. I believe I should roast if I had on a feather
more."

"Wouldn't you like Mr. Snow to go home with you? He can go just as well
as not," insisted Mrs. Snow.

"Certainly, just as well as not," repeated the elder Miss Snow, followed
by the second with: "as well as not," and by the third with: "and be
glad to do it."

"No--no--no--no"--to each. "I can get along better without him, and I
don't mean to give him a chance to take back what he has said."

Miss Butterworth ran down the steps, the whole family standing in the
open door, with Mr. Snow, in his glasses, behind his good-natured,
cackling flock, thoroughly glad that his protective services were deemed
of so small value by the brave little tailoress.

Then Miss Butterworth could see the moon and the stars. Then she could
see how beautiful the night was. Then she became conscious of the
everlasting roar of the cataracts, and of the wreaths of mist that they
sent up into the crisp evening air. To the fear of anything in
Sevenoaks, in the day or in the night, she was a stranger; so, with a
light heart, talking and humming to herself, she went by the silent
mill, the noisy dram-shops, and, with her benevolent spirit full of hope
and purpose, reached the house where, in a humble hired room she had
garnered all her treasures, including the bed and the linen which she