Her voice changed to wonder and fear.  His overcoat was gone and he seemed a mass of ice and snow.  His beard was frozen together; his breath came with a thick, husky, sound, and he looked so pale and exhausted.  She led him to the fire, and began removing his icy garments.  She was too frightened to be of much use, but May’s thoughtful self was flitting quietly around, preparing a hot drink and seeing that the bed was ready.  He could not speak for a few minutes, and then it was only brokenly.

“Poor creatures!  She had nothing over her but a thin quilt, and the snow blowing through the cracks; and I just took off my coat—­and put it over her.  I thought I could stand it.”

Beth understood it now.  He had driven home, all that long way, facing the storm, after taking off his warm fur overcoat, and he was just recovering from a severe cough, too.  She trembled for its effect upon him.  It went to her heart to hear his husky breathing as he sat there trembling before the fire.  They got him to bed soon, and Aunt Prudence tramped through the storm for Dr. Mackay, the young doctor who had started up on the other side of the town.  He came at once, and looked grave after he had made a careful examination.  There had been some trouble with the heart setting in, and the excitement of his adventure in the storm had aggravated it.  Beth remembered his having trouble of that sort once before, and she thought she read danger in Dr. Mackay’s face.

That was a long, strange night to Beth as she sat there alone by her father’s bedside.  He did not sleep, his breathing seemed so difficult.  She had never seen him look like that before—­so weak and helpless, his silvery hair falling back from his brow, his cheeks flushed, but not with health.  He said nothing, but he looked at her with a pitying look sometimes.  What did it all mean?  Where would it end?  She gave him his medicine from hour to hour.  The sleet beat on the window and the heavy ticking of the clock in the intervals of the storm sounded like approaching footsteps.  The wind roared, and the old shutter creaked uneasily.  The husky breathing continued by her side and the hours grew longer.  Oh, for the morning!  What would the morrow bring?  She had promised May to awaken her at three o’clock, but she looked so serene sleeping with a smile on her lips, that Beth only kissed her softly and went back to her place.  Her father had fallen asleep, and it was an hour later that she heard a gentle step beside her, and May looked at her reproachfully.  She went to her room and left May to watch.  There was a box on her table that her father had left before he went out that evening, and then she remembered that it was Christmas morning.  Christmas morning!  There was a handsome leather-bound Bible and a gold watch with a tiny diamond set in the back.  She had a choked feeling as she lay down, but she was so exhausted she soon slept.  It was late in the morning when she awoke, and May did not tell her of her father’s fainting spell.  Aunt Prudence was to sit up that night.  The dear old housekeeper!  How kind she was, Beth thought.  She had often been amused at the quaint, old-fashioned creature.  But she was a kind old soul, in spite of her occasional sharp words.