"Nothing," said she, coldly, maddened by the sight of Ada's head resting against his shoulder, "except to remain here and freeze to death waiting for some other vehicle to happen along and take us home."
"Something may happen along at any minute," he answered, encouragingly. "There are numbers of people out to-night as well as ourselves."
"It is quite probable that we are the last on the road," said she doubtfully. "Indeed, I believe that we are. If Ada were unhurt I should suggest that we walk home, or back to the hotel at least. Ada, my dear, rouse yourself and do not weep so childishly. Do you not see what a plight you are putting us in? I am quite sure you can walk a little if you will only try to make an effort."
Thus adjured, Ada lifted herself and tried to put her foot on the ground and stand up.
"It is useless," said she, falling back with a sharp cry. "My ankle is too badly hurt. I cannot stand upon it."
Ere she ceased to speak, the welcome tinkle of sleigh-bells in the distance saluted their ears.
"Thank Heaven!" ejaculated Lance, "we have but a moment to wait. Relief is at hand."
"How fortunate!" chimed in Mrs. Vance, recovering her good humor at the prospect of help in their extremity.
Directly a splendid little sleigh drove up to them, stopped, and the single occupant, a handsome young man, jumped out.
"What is the trouble here?" he inquired, in a genial, friendly voice. "Why, upon my word," with a start of surprise, "it's you, Lance, is it not?"