The snow, every now and then, fell hissing into the fire which blazed upon the hearth.
The musician sat down to the organ and sang a few snatches from his Mass, which was to be given for the first time on Christmas Day.
"There is a poor woman at the door, dear," said his wife, coming in silently and standing near him, a pathetic figure in her black dress.
"Oh, Mary, I can't see anybody to-day," he answered, placing his arm round her with unwonted gentleness.
"Gordon tried to dismiss her, George; but she seemed so distressed, and begged so hard to be allowed to speak with you, that he came to me, and when I saw her——"
"I understand, dear, I know your tender heart. If I gave in to you we shouldn't have a penny in the world——"
"We are so rich, George, we could give and give, and never feel it——"
"Well, well, don't cry, Mary. What is the woman's name?"
"Maggie Reed!"