“It is beautiful,” she admitted, “and what fun, Judy, to go whizzing down Round Head! It will be the longest coast I have ever taken in my life.”
Clambering up the side of the hill had not been as difficult as they had expected, because the wind had swept that part of it clear of drifts and the way was plain. When at last they reached the top, Molly was no longer sorry that Judy had dragged her from “The Idylls of the King” and the comforts of an easy chair.
“You’re not afraid, Molly?” asked the reckless Judy, looking with the glittering eye of anticipation down the long track of white over which they would presently be flying.
“I don’t see why I should be,” answered Molly evasively. “Even if we fall off, it will be on a bed of snow as soft as a down comfort.”
“Come along, then,” cried Judy, “we’ll have the sensation of our lives. And we might as well make it a good one, because it’s beginning to snow again and we’d better not try it a second time.”
Judy had coasted down Round Head before and knew just the spot on the hill where the Wellington girls were accustomed to start the long slide on bobs and sleds.
Sitting behind Judy, Molly closed her eyes and the sled commenced its journey. For some moments it skimmed along at a reasonable speed, but as it gained in impetus, she had the sensation of riding on the tail of a comet.
“Look out for the bump,” called Judy with amazing calm and forethought, considering the circumstances.
