“Yes, do, mother, do!” exclaimed the children together.

“I should like very much to gratify you, my dear children, but it is not in my power to do so, as I am not very well acquainted with her history.  But I will tell you how we can arrange it.  Judy will he here to-night, as, I promised to give her some Indian cakes, of which she is very fond, and I have no doubt that she will tell you the story of her sad life.”

The idea of hearing Judy’s story occupied the mind of the children all the afternoon, and the evening was looked forward to with great impatience by them.

It was twilight, and Mrs. Ford and the children had gathered around the warm, comfortable grate to await the return of papa.  The wind whistled without, and the snow-flakes fell silently and steadily to the frozen ground.

“Mother, can’t I bring in the lights?” asked Cornelia, who was getting a little impatient; only a little, for Cornelia was remarkable for her sweet and placid disposition.

“Yes, dear, I think you may.  Hark! yes, that is his footstep in the hall.  Go, Alfred, and tell Bessie to bring up the tea.  And you, Cornelia, bring your father’s dressing-gown and slippers to the fire.”

“Yes, wife, let us have some of Bessie’s nice hot tea, for I am chilled through and through; and such a cutting wind!  I thought my nose would have been blown off; and what would my little girl have said if she had seen her papa come home without a nose?  Would you have run?” asked Mr. Ford.

“No, indeed, papa, if your nose were blown off, and your teeth all pulled out, and you were like ‘Uncle Ned,’ who had ’no eyes to see, and had no hair on the top of his head,’ I would just get on your lap as I do now; so you see you could not frighten me away if you tried ever so hard,” said Cornelia, laughingly.

Supper was hastily dispatched, by the children, who were eager and impatient for the coming of Aunt Judy.

“O mother! do you think she will come?” asked Alfred, as his mother arose from the table to look at the weather.

“Well, indeed, Alfred, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I think there is little probability of seeing Judy to-night.”

“Why, no, mother, I thought that as soon as I saw what a stormy night it was; and although it will disappoint us very much, I hope she will not come,” said little Cornelia.

“Why, how you talk, sis! Not come, indeed!  Humph!  I hope she will, then.  This little snow wouldn’t hurt me, so it wouldn’t hurt her,” said the impetuous Alfred.

“You must remember, my son, that Judy is old and infirm, and subject, as she says, to a ‘touch of the rheumatiz.’  But I am sorry that she has not come to-night.  She may be sick; I think I will call down and see her to-morrow,” said Mrs. Ford, drawing out the table and arranging the shade on the lamp, so that the light fell on the table and the faces of those around it.  They were cheerful, happy faces, and everything around them wore the same look; and from the aspect of things, it seemed as if they were going to spend a pleasant and profitable evening.