" Then Lizzie's cloak
(A good gray duffle) lovingly she tied,
And amply little Jenny's lack supplied
With her own warmest shawl. "Be sure," said she,
"To wrap it round, and knot it carefully,
(Like this) when you come home--just leaving free
One hand to hold by. Now, make haste away--
Good will to school, and then good right to play."
The mother watches them with foreboding, though she knows not why. In a
little while the threatened storm sets in. Night comes, and with it comes
the father from his daily toil--There's a treasure hidden in his hat--
A plaything for the young ones he has found--
A dormouse nest; the living ball coil'd round
For its long winter sleep; all his thought
As he trudged stoutly homeward, was of naught
But the glad wonderment in Jenny's eyes,
And graver Lizzie's quieter surprise,
When he should yield, by guess, and kiss, and prayer,
Hard won, the frozen captive to their care.
No little faces greet him as wont at the threshold; and to his hurried
question--
"Are they come?"--t'was, "No,"
To throw his tools down, hastily unhook
The old crack'd lantern from its dusky nook
And, while he lit it, speak a cheering word
That almost choked him, and was scarcely heard,--
Was but a moment's act, and he was gone
To where a fearful foresight led him on.
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