“I am weary with watching,” said another, as she went from the window where she had been looking, for so many days, for the loved form.  “Our father has forgotten us all,” she moaned, and bowed her head and wept.

There was no one to comfort; for all were sad, knowing that naught but a few crusts remained for their morrow’s food—­and who would provide for the coming days?  Lights and fuel too were wanting, and winter but half gone.  Even the faith of the eldest had long since departed, and he too had yielded to distrust.

“My father will come,” still whispered the little one, strong in her child-trust, while the others doubted.

“It’s because she’s so young, and cannot reason like us,” they said among themselves.

“Perhaps God can speak to her because she is so simple,” said one of the household with whom words were few.

They looked at each other as though a ray of sunlight had flashed through their dwelling.  Something akin to hope began to spring in their hearts, but died away as the chilling blasts came moaning around them.

Three days passed, while the storm raged and threatened to bury their home beneath the heavy snows.  There was no food now to share between them.  The last crumb had been given the child to soften her cries of hunger.

“I can stand this no longer,” said the eldest, wrapping his garments around him, and preparing to go forth to find labor and bread for his brothers and sisters.  “Ah, that I should ever have lived to see this day!”—­he murmured—­“the day in which we are deserted and forgotten by our father.”

The sound of murmuring within now mingled with the sighing of the winds without.  He stepped to the door; but for an instant the fierce blasts drove him back—­yet but for an instant.  “I will not add cowardice to sorrow,” he said to them, in reply to their entreaties not to go in the storm.  With one strong effort he faced the chilling sleet, which so blinded him that he could not find the path which led to the highway; yet he went bravely on, till hunger and chill overcame him, and he could no longer see or even feel.  He grew strangely dizzy, and would have fallen to the ground, but for a pair of strong arms which at that instant held him fast.  He was too much overcome to know who it was that thus enfolded him; but soon a well-known voice rose above the wind and the storm,—­he knew that his father’s arms were about him, and he feared no more.  In the hour of greatest need the father had come.  There, in that hour of brave effort, he was spared a long exposure to the wintry blast.  A carriage laden with food, fuel, and timely gifts, for each, was already on the road, and would soon deposit its bounties at the door of those whose faith had deserted them.

What a happy household gathered around the father that night!  There was no need of lamps to reveal the joy on their faces, and the darkness could not hide the tears which coursed down their cheeks.  The little one awoke shouting, in her child-trust, “My father has come! me knew him would!”