bed and border and path, as if
it had never been, lay a splendid, softly shining sweep of blue-white
snow. The Colonel's unbidden guests forgot their quarrel and plunged
eagerly across the white expanse.

"Catch me," Judith called, but it was Neil, snatching off her toboggan
cap by its impudent tassel, who had to be caught. It was heavy and
breath-taking work on the broad, old-fashioned snowshoes which she
managed with clumsy grace. Judith, short-skirted and trim in fleecy
white sweater, collar rolled high to the tips of small, pink ears, blond
curls blowing in the wind, pursued ardently. Neil evaded her like a lean
and darting shadow, hands deep in the pockets of his old gray sweater,
cap low over his brooding eyes.

Under the unrelenting glare of the Colonel's windows, and across the
deserted grandeur of his lawn, the two small and dishevelled figures
dodged and doubled and retreated, only to grapple and trip each other up
at last at the foot of the veranda steps, and collapse there, breathless
and laughing. But their laughter died quickly, and Judith, pulling the
recovered cap over her wind-tossed curls, watched the brooding gloom
come back into Neil's eyes as he settled into a sulky heap on the step
below her.

Her quarrels with Neil were as strange as her beautiful hours with him,
fed by black undercurrents of feeling that swept and surprised her,
flaming up suddenly like banked fires. She was hotly angry with him now.

"Neil, I heard what you said about Green River shutting its eyes. It was
foolish."

"I'd say it to his face." Neil flashed a black look at the bland and
elegant drawing-room windows, as if he could talk to the Colonel through
them. "I've got worse than that to say to Everard."

"Then say it to me. Don't hint. I'm tired of hearing you. You're as bad
as Norah."

"You wouldn't understand."

That is the irresistible challenge to any woman. Judith's eyes kindled.
Neil slouched lower on the steps, dropping his head in his hands.
"Everard," he threw out presently, "has bought the Hiawatha Club Camp."

"I don't believe it."

"The club was in debt. That's a bad thing for a club or a man to be, if
the Colonel knows it. And it's a worse thing for a woman."

"What do you mean?"

He did not explain or raise his head. "I've got a job for the summer
vacation," he said presently.

"Already? Fine."

"Oh, fine. In the fish market--tend store, drive the cart. And I'm fired
from the _Record_, Judith.