"Yes, indeed. That's what I'm out for. Martin, fasten these sleds on behind somehow."
The obedient footman left his place, and, though the order must have been an unusual one, he showed no sign of surprise.
"Yes, sir," he said, touching his hat. "Beg pardon, sir, but what shall I fasten them to, sir?"
"I said fasten them to this sleigh! If there isn't any way to do it, invent one. Fasten one sled, and then that can hold the next one, all the way along. Blockhead!"
"Yes, sir; very good, sir." And, touching his hat again, the unperturbed footman went to work. How he did it, they never knew, for the sleigh had not been constructed for the purpose of "giving a hitch" to children's sleds, but somehow the ingenious Martin attached a sled securely to the back of the big sleigh. Molly took her seat thereon, and then another sled was easily fastened to the back of hers. And so on, until all were arranged.
Then the footman calmly returned to his own place, the coachman touched up the horses, the bells jingled gaily, and they were off!
Such a ride as they had! It was ever so much more fun than riding in the sleigh, and though the boys, who were at the end of the line of sleds, fell off occasionally, they floundered on again, and were all right until they turned another sharp corner.
"Thank you, very much, mister," said Molly, heartily, as they neared the Maynard home; "we're going to leave you now."
Again the sleigh stopped, the dignified footman came and released the sleds, and, after a chorus of thanks from the merry children, Mr. Abercrombie drove away in his solitary splendor.
"You beat the Dutch, Molly!" cried King. "I never should have dreamed of asking Lord Abercrombie, as people call him, to give us a ride."