"Just lovely," Nancy laughed wickedly; "he'll be pleased when I tell him."
Poor Judith crimsoned.
"Oh, Nancy," she begged, "you wouldn't, surely you wouldn't. I just meant that he had nice eyes."
But Nancy would make no promises.
Promptly after an early lunch the skaters set off, and Jack appeared with a horse and a little old-fashioned cutter which he had borrowed from an uncle who scorned motors and still clung to his horse. Judith was tucked up in a fur robe in the cutter and off they went.
JUDITH WAS TUCKED UP IN A FUR ROBE IN THE CUTTER AND OFF THEY WENT
"It's almost as good as skiing or flying," laughed Judith as the light sleigh flew over the snow and the bells on the horse jingled a merry accompaniment to their talk. It was another day of magical colouring—all blue and gold and dazzling white, and "Little Oaks" was reached all too soon in Judith's opinion. To their dismay there was no friendly column of smoke announcing the fire that Mme. Berthier had promised.
"It's a good thing the Berthiers are only a mile away," said Jack; "whatever can have happened?"
He came out of the little whitewashed cottage with a grave face. "Jacques is away at the lumber camp and Toinette and the two younger children are down with flu—Toinette seems very ill; luckily Jeanne is old enough to do the nursing, but they need a doctor, and I'm afraid I'll have to go off at once. Nancy will be disappointed, but it can't be helped. We'll pin a note on the door for her as we go back—it would take too long to open the house and get a good fire going—and a wood fire wouldn't keep in all afternoon anyway—and I couldn't leave you alone—"