ould easily hold his place at the head of the party, or turn a
sharp corner without treading on his own or his neighbor's heels.

All this was excellent fun while it lasted, but far too soon came the
time of melting snows, when skates and sleds and snow-shoes all had to
be laid aside to wait for another winter. It had been a season of
exceptionally deep snow, and the firm, hard crust lasted far past its
usual time for thawing. Then came the chinook, the warm south wind,
which eats away the accumulated snow of months in as many days; and the
great white banks first grew porous, and then slowly sank away, while
the water ran in streams along the streets, or lingered in still pools
far under the unbroken crust, waiting to drench the unwary passerby who
should venture to set foot upon their treacherous covering.

It was the afternoon before Easter, and Louise Everett was just
preparing to start for the chapel, to help try the vestments on the boys
of the new choir. She had lingered in the doorway for a moment to watch
her brothers, who had gone on before her, laughing and shouting as they
floundered along, now walking a few steps on top of the snow, now
suddenly sinking down, up to the waist, as they chanced to find a spot
where the chinook had done more rapid work. As she looked after them,
she saw, crossing the road, one of the stray cows that wandered about
the town. The ungainly animal came slowly along, turning this way and
that, in search of a firmer footing, until all at once her hind legs
plunged down into a hole, and the poor creature was left sitting bolt
upright and staring stupidly about her, as if in astonishment at her
unwonted position. Louise laughed at the absurd picture, but her heart
failed her a little when she thought of the long walk in store for her.

"I've a great mind not to go," she said to herself; "the walking is so
bad, and they don't really need me. I wish I'd sent the bundle down by
the boys."

But she turned away and went to her room to put on her hat and jacket,
for it was never her habit to fail to keep an engagement, and she had
promised to be at the chapel that afternoon.

Perhaps it was the special providence supposed to watch over those who
are doing their duty, perhaps it was because her light, quick steps made
little impression on the snow; but more than two thirds of her walk was
over, and the crust had not once given way beneath her. She was within
sight of the chapel, now, but