It was an ideal Christmas week, with a heavy fall of snow preceding it' and clear, cold weather that kept the sleighing in perfect condition until its close, and for many days after.
There was not a prettier turn out in the park than Mr. Fairfax's Russian sleigh with its red plumes and black horses, and many a one turned and gazed at the merry load as it passed.
“That's the foinest paarty what sleigh-roides in this park,” said a burly Irishman to one of his brother policemen, as they jingled merrily by on the day after Christmas; and, for one, I think he was quite right in the matter.
Mrs. Fairfax and Harry and Regie were on the back seat enveloped in a great white bearskin robe. It was Nan's turn to ride in front with Mr. Fairfax, and there she sat, a charming embodiment of serene satisfaction.
I think even Mrs. Murray would hardly have recognised her own little Nan in an otter-trimmed dark-red coat, with an otter cap and muff to match. Mrs. Fairfax had bought the pretty outfit for her in Paris, and it was wonderfully becoming. Indeed, I believe there was a touch of pride in her bright little smile this morning, but I guess we can forgive it, if the head of this little Moorlow maiden was a trifle turned by the joyous experience of a happy week in New York at the gayest time of the year. Remember, too, that she had been the owner of this beautiful coat scarcely twenty-four hours, and I think you will admit her to be made of different stuff from other little maidens did she not feel considerably elated by it. But Nan is not vain by nature, and never you fear but that she will go back to Moorlow the same dear child that she left it.
At the upper end of the park Mr. Fairfax met two old bachelor friends driving in a low cutter, whereupon the whole sleigh-full favoured them with the most smiling and cordial of bows. Harry and Regie were too fond of the accomplishment of gallantly touching their hats to lose a single opportunity, and Nan “was not going to sit stiff and straight as though she did not know anybody.”
“Fairfax seems to get more out of life than any fellow I know,” remarked one of the old bachelors; “and he's a good sight better-looking than he used to be. I wonder how it is?”