"Well, Morton, we'll have to be pretty sure about things then, won't we?
Where's your geography? Let's go over the lesson together. Oh! you're on
Russia, aren't you? I was just reading something about that country
myself. Think of its being so cold they chop up the frozen milk and sell
it in chunks; and they go to bed in a sheepskin bag, which they draw up
all about them, and fasten around the neck."

"I'd like that!" laughed the boy. "Tell me some more;" and he dropped
upon a low seat, which was simply a square block of wood in the chimney-
corner, while Molly, her face all alight with eagerness, joined the
group.

These true stories of Sara's were the children's delight; for she had
the faculty of making them more interesting than fiction, as she told
them in simple, vivid language, with her sweet, full voice, pointed by
her intelligent face.

But after a time they were sent off to bed, and Sara was left alone with
her mother, who now sat knitting before the fire. The wind had risen
outside, and was wailing mournfully around the cottage. The young girl
shivered to hear it.

"Sounds like a death-wail, don't it?" said Mrs. Olmstead, noticing the
movement. "When the wind hes thet sorter long scream in it, it allers
means trouble, and your pa off for the long fish to-morrow!"

She shook her head dismally, and went on in a lugubrious tone, "Besides,
didn't ye notice the windin' sheet in the candle las' night, an' didn't
ye hear the howl o' thet dog along towards mornin'?"