Sleighs of all sizes were ploughing their way
hither and thither, breaking out a track in the heavy mass that encumbered
the streets. Every one was wrapped in furs, and every one's face was red
with the smarting cold.
Joe stayed at home until mid-day, when she went to a luncheon-party of
young girls. As usual, they had been sewing for the poor, but Joe thought
that she was not depriving the poor people of any very material assistance
by staying away from the more industrious part of the entertainment. The
sewing they all did together in a morning did not produce results whereby
even the very smallest baby could have been clothed, and the part effected
by each separate damsel in this whole was consequently somewhat
insignificant. Joe would have stayed at home outright had the weather not
been so magnificent, and possibly she thought that she might meet John
Harrington on her way to the house of her friend in Dartmouth Street.
Fate, however, was against her, for she had not walked thirty yards down
the hill before she was overtaken by Pocock Vancouver.
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