“I was not thinking of letters,” replied Pam, and her smile was rather wan. “Mother may not write this mail—she has not much time, you know. Indeed, I always used to write her letters for her, and I think she must miss me so dreadfully at the business, for she always hated writing. I am feeling so bad about that poor Reggie Furness. I have never seen him, but I am constantly hearing about him, and in a way I am responsible for his having been left in such a plight. If I had only insisted on cleansing his brother’s wounds, they would not have done so badly, and then the poor boy would not have been left to such hardship.”
“Why not go a bit farther back when you are at it?” said Don impatiently. “If Mose had only been a clean-living fellow, he might not have been so susceptible to blood-poisoning. If only he had had a pleasanter manner he would have accepted your offer of water and washed his hurts himself. Oh, I have no patience with all the sentimental sympathy that is wasted on that miserable pair!”
“All the same, you need not allow it to colour all your behaviour when you appear in polite society,” remarked Pam demurely, whereat Don glared at her in downright anger for a moment. Then they both burst out laughing, and the air cleared at once. He offered to teach her to walk on snow-shoes, and Pam, delighted at the prospect of getting out of doors, ran to wrap up warmly.
Sophy came too, and for the next two hours there was riotous fun on the open space before the house. The snow was so soft that every spill meant floundering in billowy clouds of white dust. Pam went down so many times that at the end of the lesson she declared herself tired out. But she had learned to stand erect, to pass one foot before the other, and then to poise herself properly for the next step, so that she was fairly well over the worst drudgery of learning to walk on snow-shoes.
“The snow will pack in a few days, then you will get on fine!” said Don, who was proud of his pupil.
“Pack? Do you mean that it will go away?” she asked with a bewildered air.
“It won’t go away under normal conditions before March or April. By packing, we mean settling down in a close and firm mass. After a few weeks it gets so hard anyone can walk on it without sinking in, even if he has no snow-shoes. That is when life begins to get worth living in these parts. We have parties nearly every night, and we contrive to see more of each other than can be managed in all the rest of the year.” Don found himself growing almost eloquent under the spell of Pam’s interested face, and he launched into a vigorous account of the pleasures of winter parties that lasted until he had to go.
“Your brother must think that I am made of queer stuff if he imagines that I am going here and there enjoying myself this winter,” said Pam, when Don had gone and the two girls were busy in the house again.
“I do not see that there is anything to prevent you from going round and seeing folks when you have the chance,” Sophy answered, looking a little surprised, for she knew what a social person Pam was, and she could not understand the reason of her proposed abstinence from party-going.
“Do you think that people would care to have me at their parties when they all know that my grandfather will have to stand his trial for something that is next door to murder when he is found?” Pam’s tone was very bitter. She had been musing a great deal during these days of isolation, and the result was that deep down in her heart she was getting absolutely scared at the thought of going about and seeing people. Going to church at The Corner, once a fortnight, was bad enough, but then it was possible to sit at the back and to leave early. Church-going could not be called social intercourse either, and the less she had to do with her neighbours while she was under a cloud the better.