ack of a low,
deep-thatched cottage half buried in snow. On getting round to the
front the door was opened by a little girl, and nurse called out,
"Here, Molly, here we are;" adding, "Molly is my step-daughter, Master
Charlie--the one I used to tell you about before I was married, when
we were down at Hastings."

[Illustration: WINTER.]

When they got into the house, there was the kitchen with its rows of
bright pewter plates, its wide hearth and roaring fire, its hams
hanging to the beams, all just as they had been described in the days
when nurse's new home at Blackridge Farm was a subject of never-ending
interest to the two children in Mrs. Earle's nursery.

After he had had a capital tea, Charlie was allowed to go round with
the farmer to see that the horses were all right for the night,
Charlie carrying the lantern and feeling himself quite a man as he
followed the farmer into the stable. There was much coming and going
at the farm that evening, for was it not Christmas eve? and nurse was
busy sending off gifts to neighbors who were not so thriving as
herself, and busy, too, in making preparations for the morrow. Charlie
meanwhile sat in the settle and made friends with Molly, who was about
his own age and knew much more, though she was only a girl, about dogs
and rabbits and tadpoles than London-bred Charlie. By and by they
helped to stir the great plum-pudding, and dressed the kitchen and
parlor with evergreens, till nurse called them to come and hear the
chimes.

And Charlie thought it very beautiful as he stood at the door and
listened to the bells. And as they stood there the wind wafted to them
also the voices of the choir as they went on their round through the
village, singing their carols; and then Charlie went to bed with
"Hark, the herald angels sing!" ringing in his ears.

Next morning Charlie, as he ran down stairs, could hardly believe this
was really Christmas day, all was so unlike any Christmas he had known
before; but in the kitchen he found one thing like the Christmas
mornings at home, for he found quite a little pile of parcels beside
his plate, containing the pretty gifts prepared by father and mother
and Laura, and sent by them to nurse, so that at any rate the little
lad should not be robbed of this part of his Christmas pleasures.
There was a note, too, from mother, saying that she and father and
Laura were safe in Edinburgh, and that grandmother was better, and
that she hoped to tel