“How the wind blows! We could not hear the wagon even if he were quite near. Shall I go to the gate and wait?”
“No, dear, better not. Only be ready with the lantern when he comes.”
They stood waiting a little longer, and then David opened the door and looked out.
“It will be awful on Hardscrabble to-night, mamma,” said he, as he came back to her side.
“Yes,” said his mother, with a sigh, and then they were for a long time silent. She was thinking how the wind would find its way through the long-worn great coat of her husband, and how unfit he was to bear the bitter cold. David was thinking how the rain, that had been falling so heavily all the afternoon, must have gullied out the road down the north side of Hardscrabble hill, and hoping that old Don would prove himself sure-footed in the darkness.
“I wish I had gone with him,” said he, again.
“Let us go to the children,” said his mother.
The room in which the children were gathered was bright with fire-light—a picture of comfort in contrast with the dark and stormy night out upon which these two had been looking. The mother shivered a little as she drew near the fire.
“Sit here, mamma.”
“No, sit here; this is the best place.” The eagerness was like to grow to clamour.