pedlar too, in spite of his bent form, got over the ground quickly. They
had put four or five good miles between themselves and "Les Trois
Frères" when the snow began to fall. It came down steadily in thick,
heavy flakes. Babette drew her cloak yet closer round her boy and they
plodded on, but walking became more and more difficult, and they grew
both weary and cold. Suddenly, by the roadside, several yards ahead,
they saw a man's figure. He was coming to meet them, and drew near
rapidly, and then they recognised their friend in the shabby brown
clothes, who had left the inn so shortly before them.

"I saw you coming," he explained, "so came to meet you. Madame"--with a
bow to Babette, polite for one so uncouth looking--"can go no further
to-night; the storm will not pass off yet. I live not far from here with
my mother and brothers, and if madame likes, we can all take shelter
under my humble roof. It is but a poor place, but you will be welcome,
and doubtless we can find two spare beds."

They could do nothing but thank him and accept his offer. Even Babette
acknowledged that all hope of reaching Brussels was now over. The New
Year would have dawned before she and her husband met.

The wind had risen and the snow, half turned to sleet, was now beating
furiously into their faces. It was all they could do to keep their feet.
They struggled on after their guide as best they could, till he turned
out of the high road into a lane; and thankful were they when he
stopped, and, pushing open a gate that creaked on rusty hinges, led them
up a narrow, gravelled pathway to a small, bare house, flanked on either
side by some dreary bushes of evergreens.

In answer to his peremptory knock, the door was opened by a man