“It may be so,” replied her sister; and once more whir and clatter put a stop to conversation.

The afternoon drew on.

“It is strange he does not come!” sighed Nora, as she put aside her wheel, and went to mend the fire and hang on the kettle for their evening meal.

Hannah made no comment, but worked on; for she was in a hurry to finish the piece of cloth then in the loom; and so she diligently drove her shuttle until Nora had baked the biscuits, fried the fish, made the tea, set the table, and called her to supper.

“I suppose he has had a great deal to do, Hannah; but perhaps he may get over here later in the evening,” sighed Nora, as they took their seats at the table.

“I don’t know, dear; but it is my opinion that the old lady, even if she is too artful to blow him up about you, will contrive to keep him busy as long as possible to prevent his coming.”

“Now, Hannah, I wish you wouldn’t speak so disrespectfully of Herman’s mother.  If she tries to prevent him from coming to see me, it is because she thinks it her duty to do so, believing of me as badly as she does.”

“Yes!  I do not know how you can breathe under such a suspicion!  It would smother me!”

“I can bear it because I know it to be false, Hannah; and soon to be proved so!  Only one day more, Hannah! only one day!” exclaimed Nora, gleefully clapping her hands.

They finished their supper, set the room in order, lighted the candle, and sat down to the knitting that was their usual evening occupation.

Their needles were clicking merrily, when suddenly, in the midst of their work, footsteps were heard outside.

“There he is now!” exclaimed Nora gayly, starting up to open the door.

But she was mistaken; there he was not, but an old woman, covered with snow. .

“Law, Mrs. Jones, is this you?” exclaimed Nora, in a tone of disappointment and vexation.

“Yes, child—­don’t ye see it’s me?  Le’me come in out’n the snow,” replied the dame, shaking herself and bustling in.

“Why, law, Mrs. Jones, you don’t mean it’s snowing!” said Hannah, mending the fire, and setting a chair for her visitor.

“Why, child, can’t you see it’s a-snowing—­fast as ever it can? been snowing ever since dark—­soft and fine and thick too, which is a sure sign it is agoing to be a deep fall; I shouldn’t wonder if the snow was three or four feet deep to-morrow morning!” said Mrs. Jones, as she seated herself in the warmest corner of the chimney and drew up the front of her skirt to toast her shins.

“Nora, dear, pour out a glass of wine for Mrs. Jones; it may warm her up, and keep her from taking cold,” said Hannah hospitably.

Wine glass there was none in the hut, but Nora generously poured out a large tea-cup full of fine old port that had been given her by Herman, and handed it to the visitor.

Mrs. Jones’ palate was accustomed to no better stimulant than weak toddy made of cheap whisky and water, and sweetened with brown sugar.  Therefore to her this strong, sweet, rich wine was nectar.