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 repress the fright she felt. "Are ye not feared?" She shuddered. "Oh, I wish we were home."

"Nay, Cherry," Mehitable spoke chidingly, "do ye not remember what our father and John have often told us about being lost in a storm?"

"Aye." Charity's face brightened. "Give the steed his head in case o'"

"Exactly!" said Mehitable triumphantly, throwing the reins down upon Dulcie's neck. "Let the steed guide us, in case we know not which way lies home. I have, mayhap, been guiding her entirely in the wrong direction. See," she added with a laugh, as the old horse turned completely around and started off briskly in the opposite direction, "it was so!"

A few minutes more found them back upon the road. But an hour or so later, Mehitable was not laughing. Instead, she was very, very sober, for night, settling down drearily upon them, found them still struggling on through the snow. It was slow going, indeed, for poor Dulcie, with her double burden! At last, feeling her sister shivering behind her, Mehitable turned in her saddle.

"Art so cold, Cherry?" she asked pityingly.

"No," answered Charity bravely. Then, an instant later, she burst into tears. "Ah, yes, Hitty, I am co-old! Oh, it be so dark and co-old!"

Mehitable longed to tear aside that harassing, blinding curtain of snow. If only she could see a