The snow fell fitfully, and the wind howled in gusts, but every farmer
hitched up and took his wife and children with him, and no family went
empty-handed. For every road to every church lay straight by the widow's
door. Short cuts there were to be used on general occasions, but that
morning there was but the one road. And so it fell out that by ten
o'clock there was a goodly procession of farm wagons, with here and
there a buggy, and presently the widow's fence was lined with teams, and
the men, women, and children were alighting and thronging up the narrow
path to Mrs. O'Callaghan's door. There was no merriment, but there was a
kindly look on every face that was beautiful to see. And there were
those between whom bitterness had been growing that smiled upon each
other to-day, as they jostled burdens on the path; for every one carried
something, even the children, who stumbled by reason of their very
importance.

The widow looked out and saw the full hands, and her heart sank. Was she
to be provided for by charity? She looked with her keen eyes into the
crowd of faces, and her heart went up into her throat. It was not
charity, but neighborliness and good will she read there.

"I'd be wan of 'em, if somebody else was me, may the Lord bless 'em,"
she said as she opened wide the door.

In they trooped, and, for a moment, everybody seemed to be talking at
once.

[Illustration: "For every one carried something."]

It sometimes needs a great deal of talk to make a kind deed seem like