"Yes, of course. It's lots of fun. Come on, let's try it."
Out to the road they went, and waited for a passing sleigh. Soon Mr. Abercrombie's turnout came by.
This gentleman was one of the richest men in Rockwell, and very dignified and exclusive. Indeed, he was a bit surly, and not very well liked by his fellow townsmen. But he had a fine sleigh and a magnificent pair of horses, which were driven by a coachman in a brave livery and fur cape.
"Please give us a hitch," called out Molly, as the glittering equipage drew near.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Abercrombie, as he looked at the child.
Molly was always elf-like in appearance, but the wind had reddened her cheeks, and blown wisps of her straight black hair about her face, until she looked crazier than ever.
The big sleigh had stopped, and Mr. Abercrombie glared at the group of children.
"What did you say?" he demanded, and Molly repeated her request.
Marjorie was a little shocked at the performance, but she thought loyalty to her guest required that she should stand by her, so she stepped to Molly's side and took hold of her hand.
The two surprised boys were about to enter a protest, when Mr. Abercrombie smiled a little grimly, and said: