“Stanley, where is Stanley?” she called, opening the window wide.

“Under the snow,” shrieked Molly.  “He can’t get out, he can’t get out.”

Charlotte said afterward that she never felt sure whether she went out of the window or over the stairs.  She realized only that some one came swiftly behind her and she screamed, “Go back, go back; I’ll get him out.”

But the figure kept silently on, and, before Charlotte could prevent, her mother was pulling Irving with all her strength.

“Help me lift him,” she cried piteously; “my other baby is under all this snow.”

No one knew better than Charlotte the weight of snow which had fallen on poor Stanley, and she felt sick with terror as they at last set Irving on his feet.

“Run for Dr. Holland, Molly, and tell the neighbors to come here,” she said in a voice sharp with fear.  Then she seized a shovel which lay near and began to lift off the snow with a care and slowness which made her mother frantic,

“Give me the shovel, Charlotte; my baby will smother while you work so slowly.”

“Stop, mother,” answered Charlotte.  “We may hurt him if we use the shovel any more.  Now I must use my hands.”

It seemed hours before Charlotte, plunging in the snow and throwing it aside with her arms and her whole body, felt the touch of her brother’s coat.  And then still hours before she could draw out the limp, little body.

“Give him to me,” cried Mrs. Eastman snatching him to her breast, and running toward the house.  “Get hot water, Charlotte, and blankets.”  Charlotte tried to run, but couldn’t.  She was vaguely conscious that a sleigh had stopped outside the gate, that figures were hurrying toward the house, that Joe, looking exceedingly red and anxious but withal rather indistinct, had almost reached her, and then she forgot everything.

When she opened her eyes she was on the library sofa, and Mrs. Hamilton and Betty were smiling reassuringly at her.  She looked at them a moment without speaking, and then all that had happened came sharply back to her.

“Where is Stanley?” she cried, starting up in alarm.

“Stanley is all right, dear,” answered Mrs. Hamilton, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder.  “Dr. Holland says that by to-morrow he won’t know that anything has happened to him.”

“And mother?  She was out there in the cold and snow.”

“She says it hasn’t hurt her a bit and she will insist on staying up to take care of Stanley.  Truly they are all right, Charlotte, and you mustn’t worry.”  Betty’s tone was so motherly and insistent that Charlotte couldn’t help smiling.  She closed her eyes sleepily and didn’t even trouble to open them when she felt herself lifted from the sofa and carried up-stairs.

When she awoke it was quite dark in the room except for the light from the open fire.  She could hear in the sitting-room a subdued murmur of voices, and now and then Irving’s giggle, promptly suppressed by the stern Molly.  As she lay there in drowsy comfort Melina stole into the room and coming softly to the bed peered sharply at her.