The frost and the wind had their own way all through the following day. It was a gloomy prospect for the night to Mrs. Barnes. She had hoped before cold weather set in to manage in some way to get more bedclothes. A fire all night was out of the question. As a forlorn hope, she put on her hood and shawl and went towards night, up the hill to Miss Whittaker's. Why, she scarcely knew. There was the least glimmer of a prospect that she might get some plain sewing to do, or, "Who knows," she told herself, "but that Miss Whittaker will say, 'Mis' Barnes, here is an old comfortable; if you can make it useful, you are welcome to it.' Oh! if she only would." And while the poor woman struggled up the hill against the wind she was unconsciously concocting a suitable reply to such a gracious proposition. Miss Rachel had an excellent habit of employing her odds and ends of time in reading. By means of it she kept up familiar acquaintance with old authors. To-night, after the lamps were lighted—and there were yet a few minutes before tea—she took a dip into "Thomson's Seasons." She was just reading: "See, winter comes to rule the invested year, Sullen and sad with all his rising train, Vapors and clouds and storms." * * * * * * * "'Tis done! dread winter spreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year,—" when the kitchen door opened and Mary admitted Mrs. Barnes. What a heavenly place that room, with its warmth and brightness, seemed to this other woman. Miss Rachel laid aside her book and gave kindly attention to her poorer neighbor. They talked about the weather, how very early the cold had come on, how sharp the wind had been all day, and what an exceedingly cold night last night was. "I put everything I could lay my hands on over us, and yet we shivered in our beds," Mrs. Barnes said. Then Miss Rachel suggested that the house was probably open, and gave some valuable advice as to the best method of making doom and windows weather-proof. "Stop up all the chinks, and I think you will be more comfortable," she said; and then added that she was sorry she knew of no work for her. It was very difficult to get anything to do in the winter time. Had she not better try to put out her children and go into some nice family herself? It would be a great deal better all round. Mrs. Barnes got up hastily, then, and said she must go. She wanted to say that if she could get work to do she could take care of her children without help from anybody, but something choked her, so that she could not speak. This was the horrible thing that was always staring her in the face—to part with the children. Must she come to it, just for want of a little help over this hard spot?