"You ain't any sorrier than I am," said Comfort's mother. And she
wiped her eyes now and then as she cleared away the breakfast dishes.

As for Comfort, she went on her way to school, looking as
industriously and anxiously at the ground as if she were a little
robin seeking for her daily food. Under the snowy blackberry-vines
peered Comfort, under frozen twigs, and in the blue hollows of the
snow, seeking, as it were, in the little secret places of nature for
her own little secret of childish vanity and disobedience. It made no
difference to her that it was not reasonable to look on that part of
the road, since she could not have lost the ring there. She had a
desperate hope, which was not affected by reason at all, and she
determined to look everywhere.

It was very cold still, and when she came in sight of the
school-house not a scholar was to be seen. Either they had not
arrived, or were huddling over the red-hot stove inside.

Comfort trudged past the school-house and went down the road to the
old Loomis place. She searched again every foot of the road, but
there was no gleam of gold in its white, frozen surface. There was
the cold sparkle of the frost-crystals, and that was all.

Comfort went back. At the turn of that road she saw Matilda Stebbins
coming down the other. The pink tip of Matilda's nose, and her
winking black eyes, just appeared above her red tippet.

"Hullo!" she sung out, in a muffled voice.