go stay with him, and Bridget and I will get you up a codfish lunch fit for a king.”
The day slowly wore on, and the storm still raged.
“It will go down at night,” Mrs. Carter had said, but as it grew dark the snow and wind were fiercer than ever; and it was evident that Mr. Carter could not get home that night. At dinner-time it was discovered that the dining-room on the north side of the house must be abandoned, for it was not only very cold, but the snow had forced its way under the door, and a small drift lay across the floor, where it melted and trickled lazily about the room.
By evening Bess felt that she had her hands full, between her duties as stoker, consoling Bridget, who, with the superstition of her race, declared this to be the forerunner of the day of judgment, cheering up her anxious mother, and quieting Fred’s fears. The boy tried to be brave, but, in his inability to see the storm, he pictured it as far worse than it really was, and was thoroughly frightened and miserable. Looking up from her magazine, Bess watched him as he moved restlessly from window to
