ome confinement, and she had been more than faithful about
coming over to read or talk to him. It was coming through a storm to
keep her promise to him that proved her own undoing.

She had a hard cold already--March had been continuously raw and
blustery. The last day of the month had brought with it the worst
blizzard of the season. A cutting wind swept down from the north and the
snow was icy hard and stinging. Marian watched the storm from her
windows for some time before she could get up courage to venture out.
But Mother Morton's was only three blocks away and she knew Ernest
would be doubly disappointed if she failed to come because of the dreary
day. So she wrapped up warmly and braved the elements. The three blocks
seemed a mile before she covered them. She had to fight every inch in
the teeth of the wind and reached the gabled house thoroughly chilled
and spent. A bad attack of pneumonia followed this exposure, and
Ernest's troubles were almost ignored in the anxiety about lovely
Marian.

The crisis passed safely by dint of loving care and good nursing, but
her convalescence was slow. Ernest's eyes were well and he was back in
school before Marian dared leave the house. It grieved them all to see
her so thin and white.

Poor Ernest heard the story of her struggle with the blizzard for his
sake repeated so many times, as sympathetic friends called upon his
mother, that the boy began to feel a personal responsibility for her
illness. He didn't say anything but he hovered around her as soon as he
was permitted to go out, spending every cent of his slender pin money in
dainties and flowers which he seldom presented to her directly. He would
leave them on her bed or on the dining-room table with never a word.
Frank and Marian were pleased and touched by his devotion. They laughed
together over his bashful ways without suspecting that the lad was
worried.

It was Chicken Little who finally wormed his trouble out of him.

"Gee, I wish I had some decent marbles. Sherm's got a stunner of an onyx
and six flints and----"

"Why Ernest Morton, I thought Father gave you a quarter last night to
get some."

Ernest grinned in embarrassed silence.

Chicken Little regarded him suspiciously.

"What did you do with it?"

Ernest did not deign to reply.

"Bet you spent it for those grapes for Marian."

Ernest drummed on the window.

"She doesn't 'spect you to take your marble money for her, goosie. Say,
Ernest, wha