Janet drew in her head as the traveler came up to the carriage and said: "I beg your pardon, madam, but you seem to be in a predicament. If you will accept my escort to Mr. Worthington's, I shall be happy to walk there with you. I am on my way to the dance."
"Oh, Mr. Evans," cried the relieved girl, "what a godsend you are."
"Miss Janet," exclaimed the young man. "I certainly am glad I happened to come along at this moment. Are you wearing thin shoes? Ought you to walk in this snow?"
"Of course I'll walk," said Janet, as, gathering up her robes about her, she stepped out.
"The walking is pretty bad," Mr. Evans told her. "I came this way because it is shorter, but if I had known how it was under foot, I would have gone around. Perhaps you would better permit me to stay here with you till another carriage can be sent out."
"Oh no, that will take too long. With the house just in sight we surely should be able to walk. I may get my feet wet but I can change my shoes. Florence will lend me a pair, and even if I am deprived of the dancing, I can have a good time. How lucky that you happened to be going. I didn't know you knew the Worthingtons. You needn't come back, driver. We will walk."
She started off with Mr. Evans, leaving the broken-down vehicle by the wayside. The way was surely not a pleasant one, for the soft snow penetrated her thin shoes, and as they plunged along, Janet felt her ankles getting wetter and wetter. Her petticoats she held high and it was not muddy if it was wet.
"You always appear in the guise of a ministering angel, Mr. Evans," said the girl. "I shall never forget our first encounter; it was not unlike this predicament. Have you Rosalie's quarter still?"
"Yes, it is my good luck piece. There was snow then, I remember. I have always associated you with snowflakes."
"And snowdrops?" asked Janet.