break, other than the long line of footprints left by their small feet.

Farmer Joyce's pond, whither they were bent, was in a flat space at the bottom of the meadow. At one time it had been completely surrounded by a brier hedge; now there remained but a small portion on the north side, and its leafless bushes were interwoven by a mass of fantastically-shaped icicles— the remains of a heavy fall of rain, unwarily caught by the frost in the act of dripping away, and likely to be kept prisoner for a week or two.

Sally and Ted, once arrived at their destination, were not long in adjusting their skates and trying the ice. The corner sheltered by the hedge yielded to pressure, and Ted marked it off with sticks as dangerous. Then away the pair went, hand in hand, up and down, round and round, till all the soft powder latest fallen was scattered, and the skates rung again on the frostbound pond.

When they were thoroughly warmed, Ted made Sally stand and watch whilst he went backwards.

"Splendid!" exclaimed she, as he reached the edge, and was about to return. Seeing his sister's glance of admiration, however, he turned to do something yet more astonishing, and vain ambition!--tried a waltz; but the pas seul was a mistake, for he missed his footing, and without any warning but a crick! cr-r-rick-crash! the ice gave way beneath him, and he was up to his waist in water.

"Look out, Sal!" he cried, as his sister rushed forward, "or you'll be in, too!" She stooped, and quickly slipping off her skates, endeavoured to help him to extricate himself."

66

Hang it all! I must have ricked my ankle. Stand back on the bank a bit, and give us a hand will you? I can't think how it was I came to go over those sticks."

His danger marks, without doubt, had proved ineffectual, but owing solely to his love of acclamation; and as he dragged himself out of the water, up to the shelter of the hedge, groaning at every movement, he wished he had not aspired to the achievement of that hazardous feat, a waltz per se on the deceptive surface of the farmer's

| pond. pond. Sally was considerably alarmed when she found her brother unable to

walk. He told her to run to the farm, which was about half-a-mile away, and get one of the men to help him over ; but nothing would induce her to leave him.

"You'd better," he said, groaning, "it'll snow directly, and where'll we be then ?" Seeing that she was determined not to go, he added, "Give us a hand then, and I'll try to walk."

This looked hopeful, Sally thought, and eagerly assisted him to rise; but scarcely had she got him to his feet, when down he flopped in a faint, and she, never having seen anyone in the like position, feared he must be dead. She shook him roughly, but to no purpose; he showed no signs of life. So she sat down, and taking his head upon her lap, began to cry. There was no one to be seen, and it was so cold. How long would they have to stay there? Must they die out there all alone-away from Auntie, and Tottie, and everybody-Ted and she? How dreadful it would be finding them! She pictured to herself their two bodies being found, perhaps a week hencescratched out of the snow by Billy (Billy was the gardener's dog), perhaps-and carried home and shut up in those dark, wooden things that White the undertaker kept in his window. With the thought came a fresh burst of tears; and she watched the long line of footprints from the distant stile to where she sat, anxiously wondering if anyone else would ever come that way. No one came, or seemed likely to come. Overhead the

clouds hung, grey and heavy with promise of more snow. The crows replied to one another at weary intervals; and every minute Sally became more hopeless, more convinced that her brother and she must die. Suddenly an idea came into her mind, and she looked over her shoulder. The thin blue smoke curled up amid the bare trees from the farm-house chimney. Why not lay Ted's head on her cloak and run to the farm? It was a long way, but if Ted didn't wake he'd never miss her. She might be there and back before the snow came; but suppose he woke and missed her? Sally had a

brave little heart of her own, and, though but twelve years of age, undid her warm fur cloak without a murmur, made a kind of pillow of some snow, on which she placed it, moved her brother so as to cover his head and shoulders in the soft wrap, and without even waiting to kiss him, set off as fast as her stumpy little legs and the snow would permit, in the direction of Farmer Joyce's. It is always one step forwards and two back walking through a snowfield; however quickly one imagines one's self to be going, one does not make speedy progress, and so it was with Sally. Looking back once she was astonished to find herself still close to her brother, but she did not give in, as under the circumstances she might well have been excused for doing; and before the first flakes of the coming storm fell, she was running down the hill on the other side of the fence. Mrs. Joyce, looking up from her ironing-board under the kitchen window, saw the little figure approaching, and stopped, iron in hand, to stare. "Laws," she exclaimed, "I do believe as it's little Miss Sally, from the Hall. Lizbeth, Lizbeth," she called to her daughter, busy peeling potatoes in the scullery beyond" Do tell me now, my eyes deceive me-I hope as they do-who's that coming downhill ?"

"Miss Sally, sure enough, and she aint got no cloak on neither," replied Lizbeth, who had hurried in at her mother's call.

"Run out, now, Lizbeth, and see what the child's after. Something gone wrong at the pond, I doubt. Them skatin' things is a mistake altogether, to my mind, for there's never a winter but there's accidents of some kind or another. There's been none on Jice's land as yet, but I'm always afeared it'll come to that." Mrs. Joyce had a way of rambling on without troubling herself about listeners, and Lizbeth had hurried out to meet the child, not waiting for her mother's bidding. The cat on the hearth heard her talk with winks of indifference, and the little goldfinch hanging in the window jumped to one side of his cage with a shrill chirp, and looked down wisely on the rosy-cheeked farmer's wite,

letting the iron cool in her hand while she watched her active daughter reenter, bearing little Sally in her strong

arms.

"Master Ted's hurt hisself, and lies by the pond all alone, mother; what's to be done? And she's wet to the skin-sopped through!"

"Best undress her and put her to bed. Don't keep her in this hot place. And Master Ted-laws! look how the snow falls! Give me the child here, Lizbeth, and do you run over to the sheds-Jim or Peter 'ill go to the pond -and let them make haste, too!" While she gave her instructions, Mrs. Joyce was undressing the child as speedily as her wet habiliments would permit, in a corner away from the fire. Sally had fallen into a state of stupor after teebly pouring out her information, and, while Lizbeth went over to the sheds, and thence with the men to Ted's assistance, Mrs. Joyce was rubbing her back to life in a great blanket, and pouring warm milk down her throat. She was sound asleep in Lizbeth's bed when the two farm hands brought her brother into the kitchen, and Mrs. Joyce sent one of them off to the Hall to tell Mrs. Reid what had happened.

"Did ever hear tell," exclaimed Lizbeth; "did ever hear tell of such a thing, mother, as that child wrapping her own cloak round Master Ted, and coming off here through all that cold without none ?"

"Laws! you don't say? A little bit mite of a child to do that; you don't say, Lizbeth ?”

"Yes, though; and it was put up nice all round him, and his face covered so," and Lizbeth showed the way it was done. "There's no telling where the poor lad had been by now but for that. The snow couldn't nohow get at his face, bless her!"

Ted, according to Mrs. Joyce, was coming warm at last. She had been obliged to cut off his boots, they seemed glued to his feet. What with wet and cold and the swollen ankle, there was no other way for it, Mrs. Joyce declared.

Both children were kept several days at the farm-house, and Sally enjoyed it when the sneezing fit, threatening a