d there a roof
or a chimney peeping out. There were no fences, there were no roads,
but all was one mass of glittering white, and the wind was still at
work tossing the billions of sharp little ice-needles into the face of
any one who ventured to peep out, sending a shower of snow into an
open door, and piling it up in great drifts in every sheltered spot.
So nearly everybody who was comfortable at home, and had plenty to eat
in the house, at once decided to stay there. There was no use trying
to dig themselves out until the snow stopped falling, and the wind got
tired of tossing it about.

The villagers were late in getting up, for the snow before the windows
made it dark, and it was nearly nine o'clock when Mrs. Burns said to
Maggie, "You must try to get to the well; I'm out of water."

So Maggie put on her coat and mittens, tied her hood down over her
ears, took the pail, and went out.

Fortunately, the kitchen door was in a sheltered place, and no snow
was piled up before it, but she had a hard time getting through the
drifts to the well. However, she did at last succeed in drawing the
water and getting back to the door. As she set down the pail, a
thought struck her,--"What will become of Miss Hester in this storm?"

She went out again, closing the door softly behind her, and looked
toward the cottage, which was not far off, in plain sight. In the
place where the little house should be was a great white hill. Maggie
floundered through the drifts till she reached the gate, where she had
a better view.

The storm held up for a moment, so that Maggie could see over the
village. Every house in sight was sending up a thin column of smoke,
showing there was life within. Miss Hester's chimney alone was
smokeless.

"Dear me!" thought the child, "I'm afraid she's sick, and what'll
become of her and the cow--the shed is so far off, and she could never
fight her way through the drifts,--she ain't very strong--and so
little." Another pause while she strained her eyes to see signs of
life about the cottage.

"Well, anyway," she said at last, "she was awful good to me last
summer, and I'll see if I can't get there to help her," and she
bravely started out.

It was a hopeless-looking task, for between Mrs. Burns's and Hester
Bartlett's were drifts that seemed mountain high. Not a soul was in
sight, and just then the storm began again, wilder than ever.

But Maggie was not to be daunted; that cold, smokeless chimney ga