“What a sensible idea!” exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; “and I may have leisure to help you.” “We’ll take plenty of newspapers,” said Solomon John. “And twine,” said the little boys. And this matter was settled. The question then was, “When should they go?” THE PETERKINS SNOWED-UP. MRS. PETERKIN awoke one morning to find a heavy snow-storm raging. The wind had flung the snow against the windows, had heaped it up around the house, and thrown it into huge white drifts over the fields, covering hedges and fences. Mrs. Peterkin went from one window to the other to look out; but nothing could be seen but the driving storm and the deep white snow. Even Mr. Bromwick’s house, on the opposite side of the street, was hidden by the swift-falling flakes. “What shall I do about it?” thought Mrs. Peterkin. “No roads cleared out! Of course there’ll be no butcher and no milkman!” The first thing to be done was to wake up all the family early; for there was enough in the house for breakfast, and there was no knowing when they would have anything more to eat. It was best to secure the breakfast first. So she went from one room to the other, as soon as it was light, waking the family, and before long all were dressed and downstairs. And then all went round the house to see what had happened. All the water-pipes that there were were frozen. The milk was frozen. They could open the door into the wood-house; but the wood-house door into the yard was banked up with snow; and the front door, and the piazza door, and the side door stuck. Nobody could get in or out! Meanwhile, Amanda, the cook, had succeeded in making the kitchen fire, but had discovered there was no furnace coal. “The furnace coal was to have come to-day,” said Mrs. Peterkin, apologetically. “Nothing will come to-day,” said Mr. Peterkin, shivering. But a fire could be made in a stove in the dining-room. All were glad to sit down to breakfast and hot coffee. The little boys were much pleased to have “ice-cream” for breakfast. “When we get a little warm,” said Mr. Peterkin, “we will consider what is to be done.” “I am thankful I ordered the sausages yesterday,” said Mrs. Peterkin. “I was to have had a leg of mutton to-day.” “Nothing will come to-day,” said Agamemnon, gloomily. “Are these sausages the last meat in the house?” asked Mr. Peterkin. “Yes,” said Mrs. Peterkin. The potatoes also were gone, the barrel of apples empty, and she had meant to order more flour that very day. “Then we are eating our last provisions,” said Solomon John, helping himself to another sausage. “I almost wish we had stayed in bed,” said Agamemnon. “I thought it best to make sure of our breakfast first,” repeated Mrs. Peterkin. “Shall we literally have nothing left to eat?” asked Mr. Peterkin. “There’s the pig!” suggested Solomon John. Yes, happily, the pigsty was at the end of the wood-house, and could be reached under cover. But some of the family could not eat fresh pork.