"I know a short cut to the depot," he answered hastily, "it's a better way."
"But we may miss the train—oh, do turn back, and overtake them," begged
Polly, in a tremor.
"This is a vastly better road," said Mr. Bayley, and instead of turning back, he flicked the horse lightly with his whip. "You'll say, Miss Mary, that it's much better this way." He tried to laugh. "Isn't the sleighing superb?"
"Oh, yes—oh dear me!" cried poor Polly, straining her eyes to catch a sight of the last vehicle with its merry load. "Indeed, Mr. Bayley, I'm afraid we sha'n't get to the depot in time. There may be drifts on this road, or something to delay us."
"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Livingston Bayley confidently, now smiling again at his forethought in driving over this very identical piece of roadway, when the preparations for the Christmas festivity were keeping all the other people busy at Dunraven, and leaving him free to provide himself with sleighing facilities for the evening. "Don't be troubled, I know all about it; I assure you, Miss Mary, we shall reach the depot as soon as the rest of the party do, for it's really a shorter cut."
Polly beat her foot impatiently on the warm foot-muff he had wrung with difficulty from the livery keeper, and counted the moments, unable to say a word.
"Miss Mary"—suddenly Mr. Livingston Bayley turned—"everything is forgiven under such circumstances, I believe," and he laughed.
Polly didn't speak, only half hearing the words, her heart on the rest of the party, every instant being carried further from her.
"And you must have seen—'pon me word it is impossible that you didn't see that—that"—
"Oh, dear," burst out Polly suddenly, and peering anxiously down the white winding highway. "If there should be a drift on the road!"