None of the Family had accompanied her except _Joe_ and the Girl of all Work, who carried her Box; but _Pen_ told me that just as she was watching _Gatty_ out of Sight by the Light of the Lantern, some one joined them. When _Joe_ returned, he said their Companion had been young Mr. _Heavitree_, who wanted, he supposed, to be at the Beast-Market betimes, or, sure, he would not have been afoot so early. _Joe_ added that the Snow was tremendous,--up to a Man's Knees in many Parts, and up to his Shoulders under the Banks. We thought he must be exaggerating; but, however, the poor Boy had certainly been Half his Depth in Snow himself, though he averred he had not stumbled. He said it was freezing now, and the Roads so slippery that the Horses stumbled so at every Step that they were obliged to be led--he did not believe they would make more than two Miles an Hour, and wondered when _Gatty_ would reach _London_. _Lucy_ said, "Hush," and bade him not frighten their _Mother_, who was just coming in; but Mrs. _Bowerbank_ had heard it all from the Cook-Maid, and looked very grave. It turned out, that Mr. _Heavitree_ had made _Gatty_ go inside, and had accompanied her the first Stage. _Joe's_ Eyes looked very round, and he said, "Oh, I wasn't to tell that; but Women will be blabbing." "Who told you not to tell, _Joey_?" says _Lucy_. "If I told you that, Miss _Lucy_," says he, "I should blab too." So then we sat down to Breakfast, for they were glad of the Excuse to repair their hurried Meal by keeping me Company. After that, we sat to our Needles, and _Joey_ did Sums or pretended to do them, and drew Pictures on his Slate. Mrs. _Bowerbank_ was a ruminative Woman of few Words, the younger Girls were rather afraid of her, and rather shy towards me, and we missed _Gatty_ sadly. As for getting out of Doors, we were close Prisoners, and likely to be for some Days; the Weather was as bad as could be, and threatened to be worse. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII. _A Journey in the Snow._ I think a dismaller Thing can scarce be cited, than a lone dismal House on a dismal lone Moor, in dismal inclement Weather, without anything passing or like to pass on Horse or Foot, without even a Cart-Track or a Row of black Footprints to the Gate across the Snow. In-Doors, small Rooms, somewhat barely furnished, either bitterly cold, or hot and close to that Degree as almost to stifle one. Nobody coming in nor going out; not so much as a Tradesman's Knock with his Knuckles at the Back-door; no Newspapers, no News, no lively Voices, no Letters to be got from the Post, nor any Possibility of getting a Letter to the Post. Nothing but to depend on one's own Resources within the House; happy for the Housekeeper if no Bread, nor Meat, nor Tea, nor Salt, nor Sugar, nor Candles, nor Coals, nor Stores of any Sort be a-wanting!