“Now the sun’s gone, I think I can take off my glasses,” he said, as he pulled them off and deposited them in his side pocket, blinking meanwhile at the sudden change.
“Don’t be in too much of a hurry,” Louis cautioned him grimly.
“No,” answered Max seriously; “but it will be dark soon, so I don’t think I shall need them any more. But, say, Wing,” he added, in a hollow tone, as he pointed to one of the tiny burial-grounds which were scattered about the town; “aren’t you afraid to go past this spooky graveyard at this time of night?—Hullo! What’s up?”
How it happened, Louis never knew, for it was all so sudden that no one of the party saw the catastrophe coming in time to warn the driver, or even to cry out; but the exclamation from Max found them all sitting in the snow by the roadside, in various undignified attitudes, and gazing stupidly after the sleigh which went frisking away from them on its side until, all of a sudden, it righted itself and left the horses to draw it after them at their ease, as they trotted quietly away to their accustomed stable. Fortunately, except for the blow to Louis’s pride, no one of the young people was hurt in the least, and after staring at the sleigh until it vanished in the distance, and then turning absently to look at each other, they suddenly came to their senses and sprang up, with a general laugh over their upset.
“But I say,” remarked Louis ruefully, while he helped Miss Bernard to brush the snow from her shoulders; “here’s a go!”
“Well, no; I should call it a stay,” returned Max unsympathetically, as he performed a similar service for Alice.
“Oh, come, don’t laugh at a fellow,” implored Louis; “but help me find some way out of this mess. Here we are two miles from home, not a house in sight, and almost dark; what’s the best thing to do? Confound those horses!” he added vindictively, as he drew off his glove, in order to wipe his face which, in spite of the weather, felt uncomfortably warm.
“No use to wipe your eyes for spilt milk, much less for spilt humanity,” said Max philosophically. “I don’t see but two things that we can possibly do: either Miss Bernard and Miss Alice and I will sit here on the fence and wait while you run up to the village for another team; or else we’ll all walk home. Which do you prefer?” he asked, turning to Alice who looked like a feminine Santa Claus, with her shaggy black fur coat whitened here and there with the tiny lumps of snow which had frozen into the curls.
“Walk, by all means; don’t you say so, Nell?” she answered, while Louis bit his lip, and turned away his head to hide his vexation over the unexpected end to his drive.
Miss Bernard, too, declared herself in favor of walking, so they set off for home, while Alice gayly maintained that she had “always longed to be tipped over just a little, for the fun of it.” Her sister, thoroughly sorry for the evident annoyance of their young host, joined her in turning the whole affair into a joke, so, in spite of the merciless teasing of Max, the brisk walk homeward in the short twilight was by no means the dullest part of the afternoon, and it was a jovial party that looked in on the astonished men at the stable, to assure them that all was well. Their coming was only just in time, for the owner, alarmed by the appearance of the empty sleigh, was bestirring himself to drive down to the school, and inform the doctor of the probable accident to his young charges. Congratulating themselves that they had escaped this exposure of their absurd plight, they climbed into the sleigh which was still standing under the shed, and were driven home in triumph by good-natured Mr. Searle, who promised to say nothing of the matter, thus sparing Louis the mortification of being laughed at by the whole school.