Part 10 (1/2)

”Yes, and she's trying to put both shawls on at once,” said Nancy.

”Oh, quick! See what Patricia is doing.”

Completely out of patience with Arabella's wriggling, Patricia was taking a vigorous hand.

In a manner anything but gentle she was pulling the heavy shawls up around Arabella's head and shoulders.

Betty Chase said that she was ”yanking” them, and the word, if not elegant, was truthfully descriptive.

”_Don't_ knock my hat off!” whimpered Arabella.

”I don't care what I do if only I get those old shawls onto you so you'll sit still!” declared Patricia.

When Arabella settled herself in her place she took a third more room than before, and looked like a little old woman rolled up in many blankets.

Arabella sat firm and immovable, staring through her spectacles. She did not turn to the right or the left, and one would say that she did not know that the girls were laughing at her.

”Don't you wish you had just one more shawl?” said Patricia.

”Not if I had to have you put it on,” drawled Arabella. ”You shoved my hat on one side of my head, and it's felt queer ever since.”

”How do you know that the hat has felt queer?” Valerie asked, smothering a laugh.

”I guess you'd feel queer if Patricia Levine had once taken hold of you,” was the quick response, and Valerie ceased teasing.

”Dorothy knows a jolly sleighing song,” said Nancy.

”Sing it! Sing it!”

”Oh, please sing it, Dorothy,” clamored eager voices.

”Sing it with me, Nancy,” Dorothy said. ”Your alto makes it fine.”

Their voices blended sweetly, and the melody floated out on the crisp air, so that a tall, dark man left a wood road, and stood listening as the sleigh sped past.

”Over the ice and snow we fly, Oh, but our steeds have wings!

And their hoofs keep time With the glad bells chime, For sleigh bells are merry things, Never a thought or care have we, Lessons are laid aside, And we laugh and sing, Adding mirth and din To the joy of a winter's ride.”

”Oh, don't stop!” cried an eager voice. ”Isn't there another verse?”

”There are two other verses,” said Dorothy ”but--I've forgotten them.”

”Then sing the one you do know. It's worth hearing again!”

Again she sang it, as gayly as before, but for some reason, Nancy's voice trembled, and Dorothy turned to glance at her.

She saw that Nancy's cheeks were white, and her eyes wide as if with fear. A moment before her cheeks had been rosy red where the sharp wind had kissed them.