er hot chocolate. "I _love_ the snow--and this was almost like
getting lost in a blizzard."

Mrs. Kranz shook her head. "Say nodt so--say nodt so," she rumbled. "Dis
iss pad yedt for de poor folk. Yah! idt vill make de coal go oop in
brice."

"Yes," said Maria, softly. "My papa says he will have to charge twelve
cents a pail for coal to-morrow, instead of ten. He has to pay more."

"I never thought of _that_ side of it," confessed Agnes, slowly. "I
suppose a snow storm like this _will_ make it hard for poor people."

"Undt dere iss blenty poor folk all about us," said Mrs. Kranz, shaking
her head. "Lucky you are, dot you know noddings about idt."

"Why shouldn't we know something about it?" demanded Ruth, quickly. "Do
you mean there will be much suffering among _our_ tenants because of
this storm, Mrs. Kranz?"

"Gott sie dank! nodt for _me_," said the large lady, shaking her head.
"Undt not for Maria's fadder. Joe Maroni iss doin' vell. But many are
nodt so--no. Undt der kinder----"

"Let's give them all a Christmas," exclaimed Ruth, having a sudden
bright, as well as kind, thought. "I'll ask Mr. Howbridge. You shall
tell us of those most in need, Mrs. Kranz--you and Maria."

"Vell dem poor Goronofskys iss de vorst," declared the grocery-store
woman, shaking her head.

Ruth and Agnes remembered the reported riches in Sadie Goronofsky's
bank, but although they looked at each other, they said nothing about
it.

"Sadie has an awful hard time," said Maria.

"De sthep-mudder does nodt treat her very kindly----Oh, I know! She has
so many kinder of her own. Sadie vork all de time ven she iss de school
oudt."

They discussed the other needy neighbors for half an hour longer. Then
Neale put on his dried shoes and stockings, tied his trouser-legs around
his ankles, and announced himself ready to go. The girls were well
protected to their knees by leggings, so they refused to remain for the
night at Mrs. Kranz's home.

They set out bravely to finish their journey to the old Corner House.
Some of the drifts were waist deep and the wind had begun to blow. "My!
but I'm glad we're not over on those flats now," said Agnes.

It was almost one o'clock when they struggled through the last drift and
reached the back door of the old Corner House. Uncle Rufus, his feet on
the stove-hearth, was sleeping in his old armchair, waiting up for them.

"Oh, Uncle Rufus! you ought to be abed," cried Ruth.

"You've lost your beauty