“Yes; but it’s dry, you know.”
“So they always say. I’m going out there some time and see if it is true.”
“Isn’t that nice of you to doubt my word!”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, Ann. I just make allowances for local pride. The first winter that you spend out there I’m coming.” Maurice gave Ann a swift look, then let the horses go a little faster. “How do you like the tone of our sleigh-bells, Ann? They are the old ones, from ‘time immemorial,’ Grandmother says.”
“It’s just too Christmasy for words! Please take me out again while I’m here.”
“As often as you want to go. Ron says that we are going to get up a sled party some night, a regular old-fashioned jaunt, you know.”
“That will suit me, Maurice. But where is my wandering father? Why didn’t he care enough for his daughter to come after her?”
“Say, Ann—that is hard on me. Not content with her gay cavalier, she is crying for Papa! Suzanne, do you realize that the thermometer has dropped at least ten degrees? Git-ap!”
“Honestly, Maurice? How do you know?” called Suzanne, above the jangling bells.
“He is just joking me, Suzanne. Don’t pay any attention!”