"Stars of the summer night,
Hide in your azure deeps,—
She sleeps—my lady sleeps."
He was on his way to get Bettie Moss, one of his old sweethearts, who had become more deeply concerned with the life of Edwin Blackler. He had taken the matter with sunny philosophy even before meeting Eileen Deering at the Seminary, and he was now on his way to bring about peace between Ed and Bettie, who had lately quarreled. Incidentally he expected to enjoy the sleigh-ride.
"Stiddy, boy! Ho, boy! Stiddy, old fellow," he called soothingly to Marc, as he neared the gate and whirled up to the door. A girl came to the door as he drove up, her head wrapped in a white hood, a shawl on her arms. She had been waiting for him.
"Hello, Milt. That you?"
"It's me. Been waiting?"
"I should say I had. Begun t' think you'd gone back on me. Everybody else's gone."
"Well! Hop in here before you freeze; we'll not be the last ones there. Yes, bring the shawl; you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face," he called, authoritatively.
"'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to the sleigh's side.
"Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in.
"Then where'll the snow come from?"