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8 and the Cabinet ladies! As if she could know the best time to come half as well as I know for her!

I gave up, of course—I always do. I've written my answer and given it to Peter to mail in the nearest letter-box. I knew that that was the only way to do if I were going to be properly loyal to my family; if I had waited twelve hours longer I should have conjured up difficulties enough to keep a whole regiment away, to say nothing of one small cousin. I suppose that Providence is administering a dose of much-needed discipline—at least, Roger implied so when I told him to-night, and Roger's natural powers of judgment are intensified in this instance by the inestimable advantage of a twenty-years' acquaintance with his cousin. I had hoped that he might disapprove, in which case I could so easily have persuaded myself that I couldn't have a stranger coming in and destroying my poor boy's one comer of comfort. As a matter of fact, I have to acknowledge that the poor boy seems to get fully his share of joy out of the world in spite of the disadvantage of living in a boarding-house. But then he isn't there much,—he's off on expeditions continually,—and when he is he's generally up here! Heavens, what a wind!

Peter came in just then, his face as blue as is compatible with its ebon finish and his teeth chattering with dismay.

Deed, Miss Persis, dis yere's one o' dem blizzards an' no mistake," he assured me. I ran to the window and looked out; thin, stinging lines of sleet were curling around the corner like whip-lashes, and there was a drift already several inches deep on the piazza. Not a thing to be seen, as the light streamed out, except a white, whirling chaos. One felt as if one were the first soul called up in the Judgment! If I had had any idea of this I should have gone over to Mrs. Bassett's, but it is too late now. A thought will keep coming to me: suppose that my letter to Ethelwyn should get lost and I have to write another! All sorts of things happen in blizzard confusions—if, of course, it is a blizzard. It may be clear and shining to-morrow—only—oh, the poor little blossoms that were so happy this morning!

It was a blizzard unmistakably. For forty-eight hours we saw nothing but the white, shifting walls till one's head fairly swam with the sight—as if the whole world—the whole universe—were snowing and blowing away. Besides, we were caught without coal enough, so that I have been taking my meals in the library and sleeping on a couch there; it and the kitchen are the only habitable spots in this great barn of a house. Our menu has been somewhat peculiar too. I never realized before how many things it is possible to get out of in two days in a fairly well-regulated house. Fortunately, we have chickens; but