As she fancied herself--starving but scientific, chilled to the bone,
yet undaunted--discovering a north-west passage at the upper end of
the goose pond, the clock struck three from the old church tower.
Madam Liberality heard it with a pang. At three o'clock--if he had
had her shillings--she would have been expecting the return of the
carrier, with the presents for her Christmas-tree.
Even as she thought about it, the old hooded waggon came lumbering
down among the snow-drifts in the lane. There was a bunch of mistletoe
at the head, and the old carrier went before the horse, and the dog
went before the carrier. And they were all three up to their knees in
snow, and all three had their noses down, as much as to say, "Such is
life; but we must struggle on."
Poor Madam Liberality! The sight of the waggon and the mistletoe
overwhelmed her. It only made matters worse to see the waggon come
towards the house. She rather wondered what the carrier was bringing;
but whatever it was, it was not the toys.
She went back to her seat by the fire, and cried bitterly; and, as she
cried, the ball in her throat seemed to grow larger, till she could
hardly breathe. She was glad when the door opened, and her mother's
kind face looked in.
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