awful storm."

"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia!
Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for
whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it
is too absurd."

For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the
study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts
at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat
about the fire in the pleasant parlor.

Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood
still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not
hear it at first, but presently it broke out--a piteous little wail,
sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen.
Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She
would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better.

Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the
broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the
corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands,
shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall.

Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned;
but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself.
She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward,
measured her strength once more with that of the gale.

This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which