his flurry Bill shuffled with unerring
instinct, dragging Mr. Shrimplin from lamp-post to lamp-post, until
presently down the street a long row of lights blazed red in the
swirling smother of white.

Custer reentered the house. The day held the sentiment of Sunday and
this he found depressing. He had also dined ambitiously, and this he
found even more depressing. He wondered vaguely, but with no large
measure of hope, if there would be sledding in the morning. Probably it
would turn warm during the night; he knew how those things went. From
his seat by the stove he watched the hurrying flakes beyond the windows,
and as he watched, the darkness came down imperceptibly until he ceased
to see beyond the four walls of the room.

Mrs. Shrimplin was busy with her mending. She did not attempt
conversation with her son, though she occasionally cast a curious glance
in his direction; he was not usually so silent. All at once the boy
started.

"What's that?" he cried.

"La, Custer, how you startle a body! It's the town bell. I should think
you'd know; you've heard it often enough." As she spoke she glanced at
the clock on the shelf in the corner of the room. "I guess that clock's
stopped again," she added, but in the silence that followed her words
they both heard it tick.

The bell rang on.

"It ain't half past seven yet. Maybe it's a fire!" said Custer. He
quitted his chair and moved to the window. "I wish they'd give the ward.
They'd ought to. How's a body to know--"

"Set down, Custer!" commanded his mother sharply. "You ain't going out!
You know your pa don't allow you to go to no fires after night."

"You don't call this night!" He was edging toward the door.

"Yes, I do!"

"A quarter after seven ain't night!" he expostulated.

"No arguments, Custer! You sit down! I won't have you trapesing about
the streets."

Custer turned back from the door and resumed his seat.

"Why don't they give the ward? I never heard such a fool way of ringing
for a fire!" he said.

They were silent, intent and listening. Now the wind was driving the
sound clamorously across the town.

"They ain't give the ward yet!" said Custer at length, in a tone of
great disgust. "I could ring for a fire better than that!"

"I wish your pa was to home!" said Mrs. Shrimplin.

As she spoke they caught the muffled sound of hurrying feet, then the
clamor of voices, eager and excited; but presently these died away in
the distance, and again t