er is long and extremely cold. With the fall of the
beautiful tinted leaves that have changed from green to wonderful shades
of red, purple, and yellow, Canadians know that summer is gone and that
frost and snow may come any day, and once come will stay, though an
unwelcome guest, for at least seven or eight months.

Now the young folks in Barrie relished this long spell of cold--to them
no part of the year was quite so delightful as winter. What could
compare with a long sleigh drive over firm thick snow, tucked in with
soft warm furs and muffled up to the eyes--or tobogganing in the
moonlight down a long hill--or skimming over clear, smooth ice--or
candy-making parties--or dances, or a dozen other delights? What indeed?
On every occasion Gladys seemed to be the centre figure; she was the
life and soul of every party.

[Sidenote: The "Bunch"]

She was an only child of wealthy parents. Her home was beautiful, her
father indulgent, her mother like a sister to her; she was a favourite
everywhere, loved alike by rich and poor. Together with two intimate
friends and schoolfellows, the girls were commonly known as the "Buds,"
and they, with half a dozen boys, were called the "Bunch" throughout the
town. They admitted no outsider to their circle. They danced together at
parties, boated, picniced, skated, sometimes worked together. There was
an invisible bond that drew the group near each other, a feeling of
sympathy and good fellowship, for the "Bunch" was simply a
whole-hearted, happy crowd of boys and girls about sixteen to nineteen
years of age.

Winter was at its height. Christmas with all its joys was past, church
decorations had surpassed the usual standard of beauty, holidays were in
full swing, and the "Buds" were in great demand. The cold had for five
weeks been intense, and the barometer on the last day of January sank to
fifteen below zero. Snow had fallen but little, and the ring of merry,
tinkling sleigh bells was almost an unknown sound. Tobogganing of
course was impossible. But as Gladys philosophically remarked one day,
"Where could you find such skating as in Barrie?"

Great excitement prevailed when the moon was full, for the lake, some
nine miles in length, was frozen from end to end, with an average
thickness of three feet, and to the delight of skaters, was entirely
snow free. Of course parties were the order of the day. Such a chance to
command a magnificent icefield might not occur again for a long