“I’ll start right to work,” offered the young rector, with the alacrity which had made him a favourite.
“If the snow holds, we’ll go over into the Jersey hills, and slide,” promised Sargent with enthusiasm. “I’ll give the party.”
“I seem to anticipate a pleasant evening,” considered Ted Teasdale, whose athletics were confined entirely to dancing. “We’ll ride down hill on the sleds, and up hill in the machines.”
“That’s barred,” immediately protested Jim. “The boys have to pull the girls up hill. Isn’t that right, Boyd?”
“It was correct form when I was a boy,” returned the rector, with a laugh. He held his muscular hands out before him as if he could still feel the cut of the rope in his palms. He squared his big shoulders, and breathed deeply, in memory of those health-giving days. There was a flush in his cheeks, and his eyes, which were sometimes green, glowed with a decided blue. Arlene Fosland, looking lazily across at him, from the comfortable nest which she had not quitted all evening, decided that it was a shame that he had been cramped into the ministry.
“There’s Gail!” cried Mrs. Sargent, jumping to her feet and running into the hall, before the butler could come in answer to the bell. She opened the door, and was immediately kissed, then Gail came back into the library without stopping to remove her furs. She was followed by Allison, and she carried something inside her coat. Her cheeks were rosy, from the crisp air, and the snow sparkled on her brown hair like tiny diamonds.
“We’ve been buying a dog!” she breathlessly explained, and, opening her coat, she produced an animated teddy bear, with two black eyes and one black pointed nose protruding from a puff ball of pure white. She set it on the floor, where it waddled uncertainly in three directions, and finally curled between the Reverend Smith Boyd’s feet.
“A collie!” and the Reverend Smith Boyd picked up the warm infant for an admiring inspection. “It’s a beautiful puppy.”
“Isn’t it a dear!” exclaimed Gail, taking it away from him, and favouring him with a smile. She whisked the fluffy little ball over to her Aunt Grace, and left it in that lady’s lap, while she threw off her furs.
“Where could you buy a dog at this hour?” inquired Mrs. Davies, glancing at the clock, which stood now at the accusing hour of a quarter of eleven.