place that she had never seen. "But, Winifred," I urged, "do you
realize how bad a night it is? Do you think it would be safe for
Mousie?"

"It isn't so very cold if one is not exposed to the wind and snow,"
she replied, "and Mr. Jones says we needn't be exposed. I don't
believe we'd run as much risk as in going to a little hotel, the
best rooms of which are already taken. Since we can do it, it will
be so much nicer to go to a place that we feel is our own!"

"I must say that your wishes accord with mine."

"Oh, I knew that," she replied, laughing. "Mr. Jones," she added,
sociably, "this man has a way of telling you what he wishes by his
looks before asking your opinion."

"I found that out the day he came up to see the place," chuckled my
neighbor, "and I was half a mind to stick him for another hundred
for being so honest. He don't know how to make a bargain any more
than one of the children there. Well, I'll go to the shed and get
the hosses, and we'll make a pull for home. I don't believe you'll
be sorry when you get there."

Mr. Jones came around to the very door with the rockaway, and we
tucked my wife and children under the buffalo robes and blankets
till they could hardly breathe. Then we started out into the white,
spectral world, for the wind had coated everything with the soft,
wet snow. On we went at a slow walk, for the snow and mud were both
deep, and the wheeling was very heavy. Even John Jones's loquacity
was checked, for every time he opened his mouth the wind half filled