"Yes, you always love to tie a string to my imagination and jerk me back. Never mind, if we've no sensation on the journey, perhaps we'll find one at Castleford. A whole week gives one a chance, anyhow!"
If Mother Nature had not been accommodating enough to provide snow for Kitty's delectation, she had done her best in the way of hoar-frost, and the woods were gleaming with sparkling crystals till they resembled the jewelled forests of Grimm's fairy tale. The landscape gained ever in grandeur as the train rushed north, and Mildred, who had seen it in summer, was inclined to accord it the palm of beauty in its winter aspect.
"There's romance enough for you, Kit-cat!" she exclaimed, pointing to a gorge where a swollen rivulet was dashing over a rocky bed. "You ought to find Undines and water-nixies if you watch for them, not to speak of the chance of slipping in, and being rescued from imminent peril of your life. If you're thirsting for dangerous adventures we'd better give the Somervilles warning, and they can go out prepared with a drag, and a stretcher, and an ambulance outfit."
"Oh! but don't you know I'm going to do the miraculous escape?" laughed Kitty.
A very warm welcome awaited the travellers at the Vicarage, where the three boys, as well as Rhoda, were back for the holidays. The Somervilles had the happy knack of making their guests feel at home, and were well able to provide both indoor and outdoor amusements. For the first few days the weather, though fairly keen, did not admit of true Alpine sports. The young people, however, found plenty of enjoyment in long walks over the moors and scrambles up the hills. They would take lunch with them, and pass the whole day in the open air, returning for tea at four o'clock with ravenous appetites for muffins and Yule cakes. Music and games were the order of the evening. Mildred had brought her violin, and was able to convince her friends of her improvement; the Vicar produced his violoncello, Rhoda sang her latest songs, and the rest of the party were always ready with a chorus to the seafaring and hunting ditties which Eric was fond of trolling forth. Diccon was endeavouring to learn the banjo, and though his performances on that instrument still left much to be desired, and were an offence to ears educated to more classical strains, they at any rate provided much merriment. Neville had, as he expressed it, "no parlour tricks", but Kitty was clever at recitation, and declaimed many humorous pieces for the edification of her audience, who waxed enthusiastic over certain American comic gems which were the stars of her repertoire.
But all the time the young folks, while enjoying themselves hugely, were yearning with an almost unreasonable insistence for snow. The British climate, more lavish with rain as a rule, had given a spell of aggravatingly clear skies, but at length, as if relapsing into its usual habit, drew storm clouds across the blue.
"Thermometer below freezing-point, mountains smothered in mist, wind in the south-west!" chuckled Diccon. "If we don't have a good fall of snow before to-morrow morning, you may take me out and roll me down the hill in a sack! I'm not a weather prophet without observation."
Even before bedtime Diccon's hopes were fulfilled. The air was a maze of soft floating flakes, and already the path to the churchyard was covered. He retired in high glee, rubbing his hands in anticipation of the pleasures of the morrow. Next morning everybody awoke to a white world. While her children slept, Nature had slowly and silently accomplished her work; all night there had been a steady fall, and now a foot of snow lay over the landscape. It was for this that the boys had been waiting. Their bobsleighs, if not quite up to the level of those provided at Alpine winter resorts in Switzerland, were at any rate serviceable, and they knew of a good place for a toboggan track. Immediately after breakfast they went off to prepare the slide, choosing a splendid hill slope with a field at the bottom. They hurried back to fetch the girls.
"It's prime, and you'd best come along at once and make the most of it," affirmed Rodney. "One never knows how long this sort of thing is going to last. It might be a melting slough of despond by to-morrow."
"Don't break your precious necks!" said Mrs. Somerville.