The winters in Eastern Canada, though cold, are wonderfully bright and clear, and the air is so free from dampness that one does not realize how cold it sometimes becomes, unless one consults the thermometer. Canadians, as a rule, spend a great deal of time in the open air in winter as well as summer, and are as hardy a race as can be found anywhere, but when they are indoors they like their houses good and warm,—no half-measures, no chilly passages and draughty bedrooms for them!
Mr. Merrithew did not keep horses, but occasionally he would hire a big three-seated sleigh and take the family for a delightful spin. They would all be warmly wrapped in woollens and furs, and snuggled in buffalo-robes; the bells would jingle merrily, the snow would "skreak" under the horses' feet, and the white world slip by them like a dream.
One day, about the middle of February, Mrs. Merrithew announced, at breakfast, that it was high time for the drive to Hemlock Point, which Mr. Merrithew had been promising them all winter. As the latter quite agreed with this idea, they decided to go on the following morning, spend a long day with the friends they always visited there, and return by moonlight. Hemlock Point was somewhere between ten and twenty miles up-river,—it does not always do to be too exact,—and their friends lived in a quaint old farmhouse, on high ground, well back from the river-bank.
That evening, when they sat in the Den after lessons were done, Marjorie told Dora about the good folk who lived there,—an old bachelor farmer, the most kind-hearted and generous of men, but as bashful as a boy; his two unmarried sisters, who managed his house and thought they managed him, but really spoilt him to his heart's content; and an orphan niece, who had lived with them for several years, and who was the only modern element in their lives. She graphically described the old loom, the big and little spinning-wheels, and the egg-shell china, till Dora was as anxious as Jackie for to-morrow to come.
The three-seated sleigh and the prancing horses were at the door of the Big Brick House by eight the next morning, for the drive would be long and the load heavy, and it was well to be early on the way. The girls and Jackie wore their blanket-suits,—Dora's and Jackie's crimson and Marjorie's bright blue,—and Mrs. Merrithew herself, snugly wrapped in furs, brought a grand supply of extra cloaks and shawls. She was always prepared for any emergency. Mr. Merrithew said that he never knew her fail to produce pins, rope, a knife, and hammer and nails, if they were needed. But the hammer and nails she repudiated, and said it was twine, not rope, she carried! The sky was a little overcast when they started, but the prospect of a snow-storm did not daunt them in the least.
The bells, of which there were a great many on the harness, kept up a musical, silvery accompaniment to the conversation, as the horses swung at a good speed along the level. When the hills began to rise, the pace slackened, and the passengers had a better chance to enjoy the beauties spread on both sides of the road.
"But oh, you ought to see it in summer!" Marjorie said, when Dora praised the varied and lovely landscapes. "There are so many things yet for you to see all around here. You will have to stay two or three years more at least!"
But Dora laughed at this.
"What about all the things there are for you to see in Montreal?" she said. "What about the Ice Palace, and—"