cribs, and charged the little boy not to leave till
she came back, and ran down to the door to go and put out the other
light,--and as she opened it the blinding snow dashed in her face. She
had not dreamed of snow before. But her water-proof was on, she pulled
on her boots, ran quickly along the path to the other light, two
hundred yards perhaps, climbed the stairway and extinguished that, and
was at home again before the babies missed her.

For an hour or two Laura occupied herself with her household cares, and
pretended to herself that she thought this was only a snow flurry that
would soon clear away. But by the time it was ten o'clock she knew it
was a stiff north-wester, and that her husband and Mipples were caught
on shore. Yes, and she was caught with her babies alone on the island.
Wind almost dead ahead to a boat from Squire's too, if that made any
difference. That crossed Laura's mind. Still she would not brood. Nay,
she did not brood, which was much better than saying she would not
brood. It crossed her mind that it was the day before Christmas, and
that the girls at Tripp's were dressing the meeting-house for dear old
Parson Spaulding. And then there crossed her mind the dear old man's
speech at all weddings, "As you climb the hill of life together, my dear
young friends," and poor Laura, as she kissed the baby once again, had
courage to repeat it all aloud to her and her brother, to the infinite
amazement of them both. They opened their great eyes to the widest as
Laura did so. Nay, Laura had the heart to take a hatchet, and work out
to leeward of the house, into a little hollow behind the hill, and cut
up a savin bush from the thicket, and bring that in, and work for an
hour over the leaves so as to make an evergreen frame to hang about
General Cutts's picture. She did this that Tom might see she was not
frightened when he got home.

_When_ he got home! Poor girl! at the very bottom of her heart was the
other and real anxiety,--_if_ he got home. Laura knew Tom, of course,
better than he knew himself, and she knew old Mipples too. So she knew,
as well as she knew that she was rubbing black lead on the stove, while
she thought these things over,--she knew that they would not stay at
Squire's two minutes after they had landed Jotham Fields. She knew they
would do just what they did,--put to sea, though it blew guns, though
now the surf was running its worst on the Seal's Back. She knew, too,
that if they ha