A great hope sprung up in my heart, and I hushed Winnie's and
Bobsey's crying by saying, "Listen, and you'll soon hear some good
news."

Our wheels crunched through the deep snow for a few moments, and
soon I saw a ruddy light shining from the window of a dwelling, and
then Mr. Jones shouted, "Whoa! 'Light down, neighbors; you're at
your own door."

There was a chorus of delighted cries. Merton half tumbled over me
in his eagerness to get down. A door opened, and out poured a
cheerful glow. Oh the delicious sense of safety and warmth given by
it already!

I seized Mousie, floundered through the snow up to my knees, and
placed her in a big rocking-chair. Mr. Jones followed with Winnie,
and Merton came in with Bobsey on his back. The little fellow was
under such headway in crying that he couldn't stop at once, although
his tears were rapidly giving place to laughter. I rushed back and
carried in my wife, and then said, in a voice a little unsteady from
deep feeling, "Welcome home, one and all."

Never did the word mean more to a half-frozen and badly frightened
family. At first safety, warmth, and comfort were the uppermost in
our thoughts, but as wraps were taken off, and my wife and children
thawed out, eager-eyed curiosity began to make explorations. Taking
Mousie on my lap, and chafing her hands, I answered questions and
enjoyed to the full the exclamations of pleasure.

Mr. Jones lingered for a few moments, then gave one of his big