y touched her, poor child, and as she led little
Tom down into the nursery again, she could not help opening into the
Bible Parson Spaulding gave her and reading:--

"'But the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps. While the
bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept.' Dear Tommy, dear
Tommy, my own child, we will not sleep, will we? 'While the bridegroom
tarried,' O my dear Father in Heaven, let him come. 'And at midnight
there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet
him;'" and she devoured little Tommy with kisses, and cried, "We will
go, my darling, we will go, if he comes at the first hour,--or the
second,--or the third! But now Tommy must come with mamma, and make
ready for his coming." For there were the other lamps to trim in the
other tower, with that heavy reach of snow between. And she did not dare
leave the active boy alone in the house. Little Matty could be caged in
her crib, and, even if she woke, she would at best only cry. But Tom was
irrepressible.

So they unbolted the lee-door, and worked out into the snow. Then poor
Laura, with the child, crept round into the storm. Heavens! how it
raged and howled! Where was her poor bridegroom now? She seized up Tom,
and turned her back to the wind, and worked along, go,--step sideway,
sideway, the only way she could by step,--did it ever seem so far
before? Tommy was crying. "One minute more, dear boy. Tommy shall see
the other lantern. And Tommy shall carry mamma's great scissors up the
stairs. Don't cry, my darling, don't cry."

Here is the door;--just as she began to wonder if she were dreaming or
crazy. Not so badly drifted in as she feared. At least she is under
cover. "Up-a-day, my darling, up-a-day. One, two, what a many steps for
Tommy! That's my brave boy." And they were on the lantern deck again,
fairly rocking in the gale,--and Laura was chopping away on her stiff
wicks, and pumping up her oil again, and filling the receivers, as if
she had ever done it till this Christmas before. And she kept saying
over to herself,--

"Then those virgins arose and trimmed their lamps."

"And I will light them," said she aloud. "That will save another walk at
sundown. And I know these carcels run at least five hours." So she
struck a match, and with some little difficulty coaxed the fibres to
take fire. The yellow light flared luridly on the white snow-flakes, and
yet it dazzled her and Tommy as it flashed on them from the