"Let us try to sing," said Dexie at last; "perhaps it will be easier than talking," and she began "Jesus, lover of my soul."
But before the verse was finished she became aware that she was scarcely murmuring the words herself, while Elsie had stopped altogether.
"I'm not going to sleep; so, there!" she said aloud. "I will stay awake somehow, and make Elsie, too."
She found that the effort she had made to speak aloud had aroused herself. The drowsy feeling was dispelled, and she bent over Elsie and shook her until she received a faint answer.
"Do you think Lancy has arrived at the house, Elsie?" she asked a few minutes later. No answer, for Elsie's head had fallen back on the seat. She was oblivious to all remarks.
"Dear me, this will never do! However shall I keep her awake more than a minute at a time? What if Lancy returns and finds her stiff and cold?"
The thought was awful, and for the next few minutes there were some lively movements under the sleigh robes; but the terror that filled Dexie's heart gave way to a feeling of relief as Elsie sat up and reproached her friend for being "so rough."
"But I shall have to use you roughly, Elsie, if you don't stay awake," Dexie answered, as she placed the robes around her; "so keep talking, then I'll be sure of you."
But the intense cold seemed to freeze the words on her lips, and soon an unintelligible murmur was the only answer to Dexie's questions.