THE WANING OF THE YEAR 173

when she came running to meet him in the shadows of the
hall; so that when he came into the lighted room, with her
upon his shoulder, his face was smiles, his step a frolic,
and his bearing that of a happy boy.

But day by day the weather grew worse, with snow and
ice paving the streets with a glassy glare and choking the
frozen drains; and there was trouble and want among the
poor in the wretched alleys near Carew’s house: for fuel
was high and food scarce, and there were many deaths, so
that the knell was tolling constantly.

Cicely cried until her eyes were red for the very sadness
of it all, since she might do nothing for them, and hated
the sound of the sullen bell.

“Pshaw, Cicely!” said Nick; “why should yecry? Ye
do na know them; so ye need na care.”

“But, Nick,” said she, “nobody seems to care! And,
sure, somebody ought to care; for it may be some one’s
mother that is dead.”

At that Nick felt a very queer choking in his own throat,
and did not rest quite easy in his mind until he had given
the silver buckle from his cloak to a boy who stood crying
with cold and hunger in the street, and begged a farthing
of him for the love of the good God.

Then came a thaw, with mist and fog so thick that
people were lost in their own streets, and knocked at their
next-door neighbor's gate to ask the way home. All day
long, down by the Thames drums beat upon the wharves
and bells ding-donged to guide the watermen ashore; but
most of those who needs must fare abroad went over