just as if a doctor might say: "Nothing more can be
done."

Clang, clang, went the bell, and they moved slowly forward.

After an age of slipping and sliding, frequent stopping and starting and
exchanges of loud confidences between the motorman and the conductor,
the car came to a dead stop.

Dr. McLean, who had been sound asleep and snoring loudly, waked up.

"Bless my soul, are we there?" he demanded.

"No, sir, and far from it," answered the conductor, who had opened the
door and come inside, beating his hands together for warmth.

"Far from it? What do you mean by that, my good man?" asked the doctor.

"There ain't no more power, sir," answered the man. "The trolley's just
a solid cable of ice and budge she won't. You couldn't move her with a
derrick."

"But what are we to do?" asked the doctor.

"I couldn't say, sir, unless you walked. It's only a matter of about two
miles. Otherwise, you'd have to spend the night here and it'll be a
cold place. There ain't no more heat, is there, Jim?"

"There ain't," was Jim's brief reply.

"I guess Jim and I'll foot it into Wellington and the best you can do is
to come along."

The doctor and his wife conferred with the young teacher who had
chaperoned the other party. The question was, would it not be a greater
risk to walk two miles in thin-soled shoes and party dresses over that
wilderness of ice than to remain snugly in the car until they could get
help? The motorman and conductor were well protected from the cold and
from slipping, too, with heavy overcoats and arctic shoes. While they
were talking, these two individuals took their departure, letting in a
cold blast of air as they slid the door back to get out.

The Wellington crowd sat huddled together, hoping to keep warm by human
contact. They tried to beguile the weary hours with conversation, but
time dragged heavily and the car grew colder and colder. Some of the
girls began to move up and down, practicing physical culture exercises
and beating their hands together.

"I think it would be better to walk," announced Mrs. McLean at last. "We
are in much greater danger of freezing to death sitting here than
moving. We'll stick to the track. It won't be so slippery between the
rails."

Even the doctor was relieved at this suggestion, fearful as he was of
slipping on the ice. The gude wife was right, as she always was, and the
lassies had better take the risk and come along quickly. Before they
realized i