Christmas at Cedar Hill

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"She found the task rather easier than she expected. The wind had blown away the snow so as to form a sort of path for a part of the way; and though there was a drift before the barn-door, she made her way through it the first time without much trouble, aided by Bose, who flounced backwards and forwards through the snow and helped to break a path. There were only two cows in the shed. Fanny milked them both, and pulled down hay for them from the rack above. There was a pump in the corner of the shed, and Fanny pumped water for the cows, and carried a pailful to the old mare in the stable. She was obliged to make two journeys to the house with her pails, and she came in from the last looking very serious indeed. When she had taken off her wraps and put away her milk, she stood at the window for a long time, and when she turned away there were tears in her eyes."

"'I don't believe father and mother can get home to-night,' said she, sorrowfully. 'I am afraid they will be smothered in the drifts. And what shall I do if I have to stay here all night alone?'"

"These thoughts were too much to bear quietly. Fanny threw herself down on the floor, with her head in a chair, and cried bitterly. The cat and the dog came round her as if to ask what was the matter. Fanny put her arm round the dog's neck."

"'Oh, poor old Bose!' she sobbed. 'Where do you think your master and mistress are now?'"

"Bose looked wistfully at her and licked her face, but he could give her no other comfort. Presently Fanny grew more quiet, and she might have been heard murmuring softly to herself. Fanny was praying—begging her Father in heaven to watch over her father and mother and bring them safe home, and to take care of her while she was there alone, so far from neighbors. As she prayed, she grew more composed and her sobs ceased; and when she rose her face was quiet and even cheerful. She made up the fire and lighted a candle. Then bringing the Prayer-book from the corner-stand, she read aloud the psalms for the day, both morning and evening, finding great comfort in the repeated declaration that 'His mercy endureth forever!' Then she began to think what she had better do next."

"'I will bring in plenty of wood from the shed, so that I need not have to go out in the cold any more.'"

"This was soon done. Fanny brought in plenty of light wood such as she could manage. The fire had been made up in the morning with a mighty back-log, back-stick, and fore-stick, all as large as good-sized trees. Fanny piled up the fuel, putting in plenty of pine-knots to make a cheerful blaze, and swept up the hearth clean. Then she brought in more wood, enough to last all night."

"'I suppose I had better get the supper,' said she, sighing; 'though I am afraid they will not be here to eat it.'"

"There was at least some comfort to be found in keeping busy, and Fanny almost forgot her trouble in setting the table neatly, frying a chicken, which she found all prepared for cooking in the pantry, and getting ready a nice hot supper. When everything was done, she covered up all her dishes warmly on the hearth, set the light on a little stand in the chimney-corner, propped up her favorite volume of Bishop Heber's Journal, and set resolutely to knit and read till her father and mother should come. The clock struck the hours and half-hours—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—and still nobody came, and no sound was heard outside but the shrill howling and deep roar of the wind, and the click of the snow as it was blown against the glass. At last Fanny laid down her knitting, and closed her book."

"'There is no use in my sitting up any longer,' said she to herself. 'I remember what father said to me the last thing: "If anything happens that we do not come home, put your trust in God, and go to bed in peace." I will just go over the house to see that all is right, and then say my prayers and go to bed.'"