There was a professor's daughter who also was not going to church that morning; and she lived a little more than three miles beyond the outskirts of the town.

Unfortunately, as the weather was threatening, all others of her family abandoned the idea of church that day, and Fred found her before a cozy fire, but surrounded by parents, little brothers, and big sisters.

The professor was talkative; Fred's mind might have been greatly improved, but with a window in range he preferred a melancholy contemplation of the snow, which had begun to fall in quantity.

The professor talked until luncheon, throughout luncheon, and was well under way to fill the whole afternoon with talk, when Fred, repenting all the errors of his life, got up to go.
Heartily urged to remain, for there was now something just under a blizzard developing, he said No; he had a great deal of "cirriculum work" to get done before the morrow, and passed from the sound of the professor's hospitable voice and into the storm.

He had a tedious struggle against the wind and thickening snow, but finally came in sight of the town, not long before dark.