dy isn't afraid of the cold," said the Major, as he
pinched her cheeks. "Why, she's as warm as a toast, and, bless my soul, if
I were thirty years younger, I'd ride twenty miles to-night to catch a
glimpse of her in that bonny blue hood. Ah, in my day, men were men, sir."

Dan, who had come back from escorting Miss Lydia to the carriage, laughed
and held out his arms.

"Let me carry you, Betty; I'll show grandpa that there's still a man
alive."

"No, sir, no," said Betty, as she stood on tiptoe and held her cheek to the
Major. "You haven't a chance when your grandfather's by. There, I'll let
you carry the sleeping draught for Aunt Pussy; but my flounces, no, never!"
and she ran past him and slipped into the carriage beside Mrs. Ambler and
Miss Lydia.

In a moment Virginia came out under an umbrella that was held by Jack
Morson, and the carriage rolled slowly along the drive, while the young men
stood, bareheaded, in the falling snow.

"Keep a brave heart, Morson," said Champe, with a laugh, as he ran back
into the house, where the Major waited to bar the door, "remember, you've
known her but three hours, and stand it like a man. Well I'm off to bed,"
and he lighted his candle and, with a gay "good night," went whistling up
the stair.

In Dan's bedroom, where he had crowded for the holidays, he found his
cousin, upon the hearth-rug, looking abstractedly into the flames.

As Champe entered he turned, with the poker in his hand, and spoke out of
the fulness of his heart:--

"She's a beauty, I declare she is."

Champe broke short his whistling, and threw off his coat.

"Well, I dare say she was fifty years ago," he rejoined gravely.

"Oh, don't be an utter ass; you know I mean Virginia."

"My dear boy, I had supposed Miss Lydia to be the object of your
attentions. You mustn't be a Don Juan, you know, you really mustn't. Spare
the sex, I entreat."

Dan aimed a blow at him with a boot that was lying on the rug. "Shut up,
won't you," he growled.

"Well, Virginia is a beauty," was Champe's amiable response. "Jack Morson
swears Aunt Emmeline's picture can't touch her. He's writing to his father
now, I don't doubt, to say he can't live without her. Go down, and he'll
read you the letter."

Dan's face grew black. "I'll thank him to mind his own business," he
grumbled.

"Oh, he thinks he's doing it."

"Well, his business isn't either of the Ambler girls, and I'll have him to
know it. What right has he got, I'd