Nancy and Sally May were in the limousine waiting for the travellers at the station next day, and as Judith caught sight of them she realized with a joyous leap of her heart how homesick she had been for the sound of Sally May's pretty voice and the sight of Nancy's dear, merry face.
Ever so many things had happened, and better still were going to happen. Sally May had had her hair bobbed, and very chic it looked curling under the rim of her little fur hat. Nancy had a thrilling tale of Christmas presents to tell, and they had not reached the end of the Christmas happenings when the car drew up before a comfortable-looking, rather old-fashioned house surrounded by what was evidently a big garden under a thick mantle of snow.
Mrs. Nairn's welcome made Judith feel at home at once, and she gave her aunt's messages to her hostess so prettily and so modestly that Mrs. Nairn was quite charmed with Nancy's new friend.
At dinner the sons of the house appeared, and with them Tom Southam, Jack's roommate at college. Jack had the same merry blue eyes and sunny smile as his sister, and Judith forgot to be shy with him. Thomas was a cheery youth, whose chief interest at the dinner-table was the food, and Judith gave him scant attention. But Tim, the elder brother, who had been in the Flying Corps and had several enemy machines to his credit, who still limped from injuries received during an air-fight, and whose grey eyes had the keen, piercing, and yet dreamy look of the genuine bird-man, was sufficiently a hero to prove undeniably attractive. Tim was courteous and kind, but from the height of his five-and-twenty years a trifle condescending, and indeed he was wishing within himself that "Mum wouldn't fill the house with such kids."
The boys had planned to go skiing next day and after some private suggestions from Mrs. Nairn, they asked the girls to come and watch the fun. Neither Sally May nor Judith had ever been on skis, but here was a splendid chance to try.
"Drive us over to the Ramparts, Tim, please," said Nancy as they started off. "I don't want Judith to be in Quebec another hour without seeing our view."
"Right you are," answered Tim, "we'd better go while it's clear—though, of course, the only way to see Quebec is from the river."
"I always get thrills," said Nancy, "when I come down the river and see the big rock and the town. Think of being Jacques Cartier—the first to see it. For a while, you know, I used to put at the top of my letters, 'Quebec—the Rock Fortress of New France.'"
"Cheek, that's what," said Jack; "I hope you apologize to Wolfe when you do it—there, by the way, is the Wolfe-Montcalm Monument—see, shining over the tops of the trees—I bet you can't recite the inscription, Nan, for Judith, who ought to improve her mind."
"Lost your bet," returned Nancy promptly—"a pound box, if you please—no, half a pound will do, for I can't say it in Latin, but I certainly can in English.