aid you were a good friend of hers; but is she your cousin?"

"Well, not exactly--we're not very near cousins. But I see to her some,
and mean to. I like her."

The study-door opened, and there was no time for an answer from any one;
but as Mr Snow went up the hill he said to himself: "Yes, I shall see
to her. She is smart enough and good enough for him if he does expect
to go to Congress."

CHAPTER TEN.

"I like the wood fires," said Graeme. "They are far clearer than the
peat fires at home."

They were sitting, Graeme and Janet, according to their usual custom, a
little after the others had all gone to bed. The study-door was closed,
though the light still gleamed beneath it; but it was getting late, and
the minister would not be out again.

Graeme might well admire such a wood fire as that before which they were
sitting: The fore-stick had nearly burned through, and the brands had
fallen over the andirons, but the great back-log glowed with light and
heat, though only now and then a bright blaze leapt up. It was not very
warm in the room, however, except for their faces, and Graeme shivered a
little as she drew nearer to the fire, and hardly heeding that Janet did
not answer her, fell to dreaming in the firelight.

Without, the rude March winds were roaring, and within, too, for that
matter. For though carpets, and curtains, and listings nailed over
seams might keep out the bitter frost when the air was still, the east
winds of March swept in through every crack and crevice, chilling them
to the bone. It roared wildly among the boughs of the great elms in the
yard, and the tall well-sweep creaked, and the bucket swung to and fro
with a noise that came through Graeme's dream and disturbed it at last.
Looking up suddenly she became aware that the gloom that had been
gathering over Janet for many a day hung darkly round her now. She drew
near to her, and laying her arms down on her lap in the old fashion,
said softly:

"The winter's near over now, Janet."

"Ay, thank the Lord for that, any way," said Janet. She knew that
Graeme's words and movement were an invitation to tell her thoughts, so
she bent forward to collect the scattered brands and settle the
fore-stick, for she felt that her thoughts were not of the kind to bear
telling to Graeme or to any one. As she gathered them together between
the andirons, she sighed a sigh of mingled sorrow and impatience. And
the light that leapt suddenly