F
ar away in the mountains of Westmoreland there is a lonely ravine called Far Easedale, and here was once a cottage called Blentarn Ghyll, where a man named Green once lived with his wife and six children.
One day George Green and his wife went to a sale of furniture at Grasmere. Before starting they spoke kindly to their eldest girl Agnes, who was then only nine years old, and begged her to take special care of all her little brothers and sisters.
"We shall be home to-night, dear," said Mrs. Green, "but you'll be a little mother to them whilst we are away, won't you?"
Agnes promised gaily, thinking it would be rather fun to be left in charge.
All went well till towards evening, when a terrible snow-storm came on. The white flakes fell so fast that the door was blocked up; worse than this, the snow made its way through the windows.
Having put the baby to bed, Agnes and the other children sat up till midnight, hoping that their parents would come, but not a sound was heard, as the snow fell silently thicker and thicker.
In the morning the snow had stopped falling, but it lay so deep that Agnes dared not venture out.
The children were miserable, and Agnes, child as she was herself, forgot her own trouble in trying to cheer and comfort them. Then she boiled what milk there was in the house, to prevent its turning sour, and made some porridge for breakfast, eating very little herself, for she feared the little stock of meal might fail.
After breakfast she asked her two brothers to help her cut a way from the door to the shed where the peat was kept, and they carried in as much as they could. Then they closed the door till night came and they forgot their troubles in sleep.
The next day a strong wind had blown away so much snow that Agnes determined to try to find her way to Grasmere. It was a difficult task, for there were brooks to cross; but the brave girl was urged on by the memory of the little ones she had left behind, and made her way there.