“You shall only come with me to the big road,” Janice said, cheerfully. “Then the wind will be behind me and I shall get on very well.”
“He’d ought t’ go the whole way,” said Virginia, doubtfully. “I hope nothin’ won’t happen to you, Janice Day.”
“Nothing ever does happen to me but good things,” laughed Janice, setting off through the falling snow.
She was by no means as happy in her heart as she appeared to be on the surface. As the season of joy and gift-giving approached there was something that troubled the girl more and more. Ever since Nelson had been ill she had prayed that the difficulty between them would be overcome. If he wanted Annette Bowman for his friend, Janice told herself she could make no effort to thwart him, but she did wish to feel that there was no unkind feeling between Nelson and herself.
When the school teacher, in his delirium, had seemed to ask for Annette, Janice was smitten to the quick. She could fight the other girl no further. If Nelson’s mind turned to the city girl in its beclouded state, he must be very fond of her indeed.
Janice had been at work for weeks on a knitted silk muffler for Nelson. Into it, as her dextrous fingers flew, she had knitted many thoughts and wishes and hopes for the future. She had her day-dreams like other young girls. And Nelson had been her very, very dear friend.
The school teacher was to have the muffler, of course. But he would never know what fancies had been knitted into it. She would just send Marty over to the Beasely cottage with the box and a Christmas card on which was written “Best Wishes.” She decided on this finally as she tramped ahead of Tom Trimmins out to the big road.
“Now, you are a real nice boy,” she declared, taking the line from his unmittened hand. “I am much obliged to you. And I wish you a very Merry Christmas!”
“You’d better git on home,” growled Tom gruffly. “I tell ye, this is a reg’lar blizzard. Goo’-bye.”
“Good-bye and Merry Christmas!” returned Janice, insistently.