George set out on his long and disagreeable tramp. He was a good walker, but the snow troubled him, and it was nearly daylight before he found himself in sight of the house. Lights were moving about, and, with a sinking heart, George felt a presentiment that his little playmate was hovering between life and death. When he entered the hall he found a fire burning, and William Fairfax sitting by it. No one had slept at Mount Vernon that night. George was weary and wet up to his knees, but his first thought was for little Mildred.