"But I see somebody coming up the street now," cried Janice, jumping up eagerly from the table. It was Walky Dexter, plowing his way through the drifts in hip boots. "This is sure a white Christmas!" he bawled from the gate. "I got suthin' for you, Janice. Hi tunket! can't git through this here gate, so I'll climb over it. Wal, Janice, a Merry Christmas to ye!" he added, as he stumped up upon the porch, and handed her a little package from Miss 'Rill. "I am afraid not a very merry one, Walky," said the girl, shaking his mittened hand. "Come inside by the fire. Uncle Jason, where is that paper? I want Mr. Dexter to read it." "Oh, dear, me!" murmured Walky, when he saw the heading of the Mexican telegraph despatch. Then, with his fur cap cocked over one ear, and his boots steaming on the stove hearth, he read the story through. "Oh, dear, me!" he said again. "I want you to try to get me to Middletown, Walky," Janice said, with a little catch in her voice. "Right away." "Mercy on us, child! a day like this?" gasped her aunt. "Why, the storm's over," said Janice, firmly. "And I must send some telegrams and get answers. Oh, I must! I must!" "Hoity-toity, Miss Janice!" broke in Walky. "'Must' is a hard driver, I know. But I tell ye, we couldn't win through the drif's. Why, I been as slow as a toad funeral gettin' up here from High Street. The ox teams won't be out breakin' the paths before noon, and they won't get out of town before to-morrer, that's sure, Miss." "Oh, my dear!" cried her aunt, again. "You mustn't think of doing such a thing. Wait." "I _can't_ wait," declared Janice, with pallid face and trembling lip, but her hazel eyes dry and hard. "I tell you I must know _more_." "I can't take ye to Middletown, Janice. Not till the roads is broke," Walky said, firmly, shaking his head. "Hi! here comes somebody else up the road," shouted Marty, from outside. Janice ran, hoping to see a team. It was only a single figure struggling through the snow. "By jinks!" exclaimed Marty. "It's the teacher." "It is Mr. Haley," murmured Janice. The young collegian, well dressed for winter weather, waved his hand when he saw them, and struggled on. He carried a long parcel and when he went through the more than waist-high drifts he held this high above his head. "Hi, there!" yelled Marty, waving his mittened hands. "Ain't you lost over here, Mr. Haley?" "I see somebody has been before me," laughed Nelson Haley, following Walky Dexter's tracks over the fence and up to the cleared porch. "How do you do, Miss Janice? A very happy Christmas to you!" "Thank you for your good wish, Mr. Haley," she replied, soberly. "But it is not going to be a very glad Christmas for me, I fear. Oh! is it for _me_?" for he had thrust the long pasteboard box into her arms. "If you will accept them, Miss Janice," returned the young man, with a bow. "Open it, Janice!" exclaimed Marty. "Let's see." "I--I----"