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It was a little nearer, and led through grassy lanes, and cool
pinewoods, and pleasant pasture lands, across a stream where he had once
built a dam, and had a little water-wheel which his grandfather made for
him.
The way, however, was anything but pleasant now, with the cold, dark
sky, the tall, leafless trees, and the drifting snow, which he found was
more than a foot deep on the level, except in the woods, where it had
not fallen so thickly. But Grey was young and fearless, and he went on
rapidly, until he reached the knoll from which the house was visible not
far away. It had ceased snowing by this time, and the moon, which was
nearly at its full, was struggling to show itself through a rift in the
gray clouds. The wind, however, was still blowing in wild gusts, and as
it swept past him he, too, fancied it had in it a human sound.
"It is like Aunt Hannah's voice calling to me. I am glad I came, though
I suppose father will scold," he said, as he paused a moment to rest,
and then rapidly descended the knoll to the house.


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