Jingle, jangle clashed the bells as Danny and Whitefoot settled very gravely to their work. On and on they went, through the woods and over the barren stretches, but always toward the north. There was no thought of turning back.
CHAPTER III
EXIT SANTA CLAUS
THE air bit more keenly, for the afternoon was wearing on; already the dazzling sparkles had vanished from the snow, and rosy sunbeams slipped among the glistening tree shafts and lay with the tall shadows upon the ground of the forest aisles. She nestled closer against him.
“Tell me some more,” she urged.
“Sure, ’tis me hist’ry from the cradle up that I’m afther tellin’ ye, ’tis your turn now. I don’t know so much as your name, though I do be runnin’ away wid ye.”
“Muvver calls me heart-names—I telled you what; and uncle says E-lis-a-beth when he’s cross, uvver times, child, or Betty. I wroted it at the end—Betty Hammond. It was just make b’lieve writing, only I thought you’d know—”
“Aisy, swateheart, aisy! Av coorse I did.”
“You got it, didn’t you?” she demanded, sitting bolt upright, and facing him as the possibility of a dreadful mischance took possession of her whole being.
“What do ye mane, mavourneen?”
“Why, the letter I wroted; oh, ever so long ago,—the letter that went up the chimbly. I saw it fly away. Muvver says that’s the children’s post-box ev’rywheres.”