orn, and he slept on the foot of her bed at night.
While she sat in my mother's lap, he was winding himself in and out
between her feet, his tail carried aloft like a soldier's plume, and
purring almost as loudly as a watchman's rattle. My mother looked down,
presently, at him, and checked the absent-minded passes of her hand
over Lucy's hair.

"Give him some milk, Marthy," she said, smiling. "I wish you had a coat
like his, Lucy. I shouldn't be afraid then of your taking cold, or of
your going too near the fire. Marthy! to-morrow you must hunt up a
fender to put here, and see if one of your Miss Mary 'Liza's last
winter's frocks won't fit Miss Lucy. It would do very well for her to
play in. We must take good care of her while--this bad weather lasts."

I fancy she would have finished the sentence differently but for fear of
saddening the child by intimating that her mother might be ill for a
long time. She kissed Lucy in putting her down, and patted my shoulder,
telling me to "be a good girl and very kind to my cousin."

"I am glad you all are so comfortable and happy here," she added. "I
could not have you downstairs just now. Carry these things down, Marthy,
and run up every little while to see how the young ladies are getting
on. Be sure and keep up a good fire, Mary 'Liza, my dear. I trust you to
look after the other children."

When she had gone I went to the window and flattened my nose against the
glass to peer into the storm. It was a dormer-window, and the March snow
was drifted high upon the roof on both sides of it, and upon the jutting
eaves above it, until I looked out, as through a tunnel, into the
jutting tree-tops. Beyond was a mad whirl of snowflakes that hid the
nearest hills. The wind whined and scolded, and now and then arose into
a hoarse bellow. I shivered, and slipped my cold hands up the sleeves of
my stuff frock. We had circassian frocks for every day, and merino for
Sundays. Our under petticoats were of flannel, and we wore, outside of
these, quilted skirts interlined with wool. My mother had a nervous
dread of fire.

A shriek of laughter turned me to the more cheerful scene behind me.
Alexander the Great was chasing his own tail as violently as if he had
just discovered it and considered it as an offence to his dignity. Lucy
was clapping her hands to egg him on, and Mary 'Liza had sat down upon
the pile of bedding to laugh at her ease. Before leaving the room Marthy
had piled wood upon t