slowly
following the numerous sleighs gliding up and down the Lake Shore Drive.
The sun shone brightly on the glistening snow, the bells jingled
merrily, and the waving plumes of graceful sleighs combined, with the
rosy faces of their fur-clad occupants, to form a cheery winter picture.
But with all this brightness before her Marion looked thoughtful and
disturbed. Perhaps the restless lake beyond, dashing its troubled waves
against the grey sea wall, better expressed the thoughts which caused
the discontented wandering of her eyes. She did not reply to Florence's
question but continued looking out over the roadway, as though unaware
of her friend's presence.

"Marion, dear," called Florence in a louder tone; "didn't you hear me?"

Mrs. Sanderson slowly dropped the sash curtain and looked up. "O, are
you there?" she said vaguely.

"Yes, and I have been here an age trying to make you hear me," Florence
replied. "What are you dreaming about?"

"O, nothing much," Marion sighed; but her voice told her friend that
this was not quite true.

"You are in one of your moods again," said Florence. "You need me to
cheer you up; but first of all tell me if you are going to the tea this
afternoon?"

"O, I fancy so," Marion replied somewhat mournfully. "I wish the
'Renaissance Club' were in Kamtschatka, or some other such place, but
Roswell actually promised to come home in time to take us, so I suppose
we shall have to go. It is not time yet, though."

"I know it," said Florence, "but I think I had better change my gown
now."

"You look well enough as you are," Marion replied, casting her eyes
critically over her friend's attire. "Put on your gold-braided jacket
and you will look as smart as any girl there."

"Very well, then I shall go as I am. I would much rather talk than
bother about dressing." Saying this Florence approached Marion and sat
down beside her on the window seat. Marion did not notice her, but
continued to look thoughtfully out of the window. Florence watched her
for a moment, as though trying to read the thoughts behind her restless
eyes; then she gently took both her friend's hands, and holding them in
her own said inquiringly: "What is troubling you, dear."

"Nothing," Marion sighed.

"Then why do you seem so far away?"

"Because I was thinking."

"Of what?" asked Florence.

"Of how like a human life the waters of that lake are."

"I don't understand," said her friend.

"Why, like a life the