"I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado Blakes."
"I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly.
"You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son."
"Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet sugar business. Do you know him?"
"I believe I've met him," Mr. Carlton admitted hurriedly, stooping to push the glowing back-log a little further forward.
"Why, Father—"
Bob was interrupted.
"Come, boys," said Mrs. Carlton bustling in. "I guess you've warmed your fingers by this time. Bob, take Van up-stairs and tumble out of those fur coats as fast as ever you can so to be ready for dinner."
The lads needed no second bidding. They were up-stairs and back in the dining-room in a twinkling, and so eagerly did they chatter of their plans for the morrow that hungry though they were they almost forgot to eat.
"There are so many things to do that it is hard to decide where to begin," declared Bob. "Of course we want some coasting and some snow-shoeing; and we must climb Monadnock. Van says he hasn't seen a real mountain since he came East. Then we want to be on hand for the maple-sugar making. Why, ten days won't be half long enough to do everything we ought to do."