Dorothy was never inclined toward mischief, and now, when her mother was away traveling for change of scene, and much-needed rest, she felt very eager to send each month, a fine report of her progress. Dorothy was full of life, and loved a good time, if Nancy, her dearest friend might enjoy it with her.

When the news was circulated that the great sleigh at the livery stable had been chartered by Mrs. Marvin, and that sleigh-rides would be in order as long as the snow lasted, none was more eager for the pleasure than Dorothy.

To be sure, she had always enjoyed plenty of sleigh-rides when at home at the Stone House, but here was a novelty! The big sleigh at Glenmore would hold twenty girls, while the beautiful Russian sleigh at the Stone House held four, and the pony sleigh two. Mrs. Marvin, in making out the list for each party, was careful to place those already acquainted together. Thus, the list that was headed with Dorothy's name included Nancy Ferris, of course, then Vera, Elf, Patricia, Arabella, Betty, Valerie, and twelve others, who were at least slightly acquainted with those already named.

They were about evenly divided in another way. Ten were exceedingly lively, while the other half of the list were pleasant girls of quieter type.

Mrs. Marvin well knew that twenty lively girls would be likely to be a bit too gay for the steady-going inhabitants of the town of Glenmore, while the school must keep up its reputation for being cheerful, but surely not noisy nor flighty!

The day for the first sleigh-ride dawned clear and cold, and Marcus informed Judy that it was cold enough "ter freeze de bronze statoo down in de square."

They were to start at three, and promptly at that hour Marcus drew up at the door.

Eager to start, the girls were all waiting in the hall, when Arabella drawled:

"Every one wait while I go and get my shawls."

She darted up the stairs, Patricia calling after her: "Your shawls, goosie! Why you're wearing two coats and a sweater now."

"What did Arabella say?" asked Betty Chase.

"I thought she said she wanted the shawl to put over her ears!"

"She did say that," declared Patricia, "and won't she look fine; besides, how could she get them on when twenty of us are packed into that sleigh?"

"Oh, I'll help her with them," cried Betty Chase, with a laugh.

"So will I," chimed in Valerie.

"Here she comes now. Well, as I live, she has brought two shawls," said Betty.

"One for each ear," said Valerie.

Laughing and chattering they ran down the path, and soon were comfortably seated, very close to be sure, but very warm.

Arabella said that the two shawls were to wear later if it became colder, whereat, Betty begged her to sit upon them.

"You take up room enough for three with a big shawl under each arm," said Betty. "Stand up and I'll fold them so you can sit on them."

Arabella meekly did as she was told. If any other girl had done the same thing, she would have obstinately rebelled, but Betty had a way that was compelling, and Arabella, after she was seated, wondered why she had been so meek.

Patricia Levine had brought a big box of fudge, and she now passed it around. Arabella said she knew it would make her sick, but she took two pieces instead of one, lest the box might not come around again.

The route took them over a long roadway that had been cut through a forest, and on either side the great trees towered above them, their branches heaped with snow. The underbrush was beautified with what looked like patches of swan's-down, and a tiny, ice-bound brook wound its way in among the giant trees, disappearing behind a clump of evergreens.

It had been possible to see all these things because the road had been so rough that Marcus had been obliged to drive rather slowly.

Now, as they emerged from the wood-road, he touched the whip to the flank of one of his horses, and with one accord they sprang forward, giving the chattering occupants of the sleigh a decided "bounce," and stopping Elf Carleton in the middle of the story that she was telling.

"O dear! Where was I when that jolt came?" she asked.

"I don't know what you were telling," said Vera, "but it's my turn now, and I'm going to tell how awfully you acted this morning.

"Girls, Mrs. Marvin was perfectly lovely. She just talked and talked about how good I ought to be, but I didn't mind that, so long as she didn't say she was going to send me home. She never said a single word about that, but I didn't know she was going to be such a perfect dear. I woke before daylight, and much comfort Elf was to me! I tell you truly, girls, I poked her, I called to her, I shook her, but couldn't get her enough awake to say a word.

"Well, we're about even, for one morning last week when I kept telling her my tooth was aching, she paid no attention until I gave her an outrageous poke, and shouted into her ear, 'My tooth aches!'

"She didn't open her eyes, but what she said was a great comfort."

"What did she say?" questioned Betty.

"She said it might stop aching if I kept my mouth closed," said Vera, "and it took me five minutes to realize that her advice was more for her benefit than mine. She wanted another nap, and closing my mouth to shield my aching tooth would also prevent my talking. Trust Elf for making sure—Oh, look, girls!"

Every head turned.

A big red pung was coming toward them at top speed. It was crowded with more boys than could be seated, and those who stood carried long poles. From the top of each pole a broad, gayly colored streamer waved. As the pung passed a big boy in the center shouted: "Three cheers for the Glenmore girls!" and they were given with a will.

"How do they know that we are Glenmore girls?" said Elf.

"Three cheers for the 'What-you-call 'em' boys!" screamed Betty, and even Arabella added a faint "Hurrah!" to the general clamor.

Two of the boys produced a pair of cymbals, but while they were clashing Betty brought forth a huge gong and nearly stunned those near her with the noise that she made as with all her might she smote it.

"Hooray!" shouted a small boy.

"Hooraw!" howled Valerie Dare, and no one could have decided which laughed the harder, the pung-load of boys, or the lively girls in the Glenmore sleigh.

"Yo'-all behave like tomboys," commented Marcus. "Lor', but Mis' Marvin would 'a' been some s'prised ef she'd been here ter hear ye carry on."

"Well, if Miss Fenler had been here she'd have had forty fits," cried Vera Vane, "but, Marcus, what they don't know won't worry them, and you needn't tell them."

"And Marcus, you can forget all about the racket before you get home," said Elf.

"Shore, Miss, I's got a powerful short mem'ry. Gid 'ap!"

"Dorothy Dainty cheered as loud as any of us," said Arabella Correyville.

"Well, why shouldn't she?" Patricia asked.

"Oh, she's always so—oh, I don't know,—correct, I guess is what I meant to say," responded Arabella.

"I like fun as well as any one does," said Dorothy who had overheard the remark.

"Oh, but Dorothy, you aren't even the least bit rude," declared Valerie.

"It's not rude to cheer," Dorothy said with a laugh. "I think we were very polite to return their salute."

"Nancy Ferris cheered, too," said a girl who had been very quiet during the hubbub.

Nancy laughed.

"I cheered because Dorothy did," she said, "but, Betty, how did you get that gong in here without any one noticing it?"

"It was under this long coat," said Betty, "and I'll tell you all how I happened to bring it.

"Monday, when I was down in the village, I met a boy that I know, and he told me that over at the boys' private school in the next town they'd heard about our sleigh-rides, and he told me that one of the boys, Bob Chandler, had bought a pair of old cymbals at an antique shop. They were planning their first sleigh-ride for the same day as ours, and they thought we'd have no noise-maker with us. I meant to get even with them, so I brought the big gong that hung in my room, and I guess we made as much noise as they did. I've a number of curios that my uncle brought home from abroad. Why didn't I think to bring along that funny little horn? You could have tooted on that, Valerie."

"Oh, I'm satisfied. We had noise enough," said Hilda Fenton.

At that moment there was a commotion on the rear seat.

Some one was twisting around so persistently that many were made quite uncomfortable.

Dorothy turned to see what it was all about. She laughed softly, and touched Nancy's arm.

"It's Arabella," whispered Dorothy.

"Yes, and she's trying to put both shawls on at once," said Nancy.

"Oh, quick! See what Patricia is doing."

Completely out of patience with Arabella's wriggling, Patricia was taking a vigorous hand.

In a manner anything but gentle she was pulling the heavy shawls up around Arabella's head and shoulders.

Betty Chase said that she was "yanking" them, and the word, if not elegant, was truthfully descriptive.

"Don't knock my hat off!" whimpered Arabella.

"I don't care what I do if only I get those old shawls onto you so you'll sit still!" declared Patricia.

When Arabella settled herself in her place she took a third more room than before, and looked like a little old woman rolled up in many blankets.

Arabella sat firm and immovable, staring through her spectacles. She did not turn to the right or the left, and one would say that she did not know that the girls were laughing at her.

"Don't you wish you had just one more shawl?" said Patricia.

"Not if I had to have you put it on," drawled Arabella. "You shoved my hat on one side of my head, and it's felt queer ever since."

"How do you know that the hat has felt queer?" Valerie asked, smothering a laugh.

"I guess you'd feel queer if Patricia Levine had once taken hold of you," was the quick response, and Valerie ceased teasing.

"Dorothy knows a jolly sleighing song," said Nancy.

"Sing it! Sing it!"

"Oh, please sing it, Dorothy," clamored eager voices.

"Sing it with me, Nancy," Dorothy said. "Your alto makes it fine."

Their voices blended sweetly, and the melody floated out on the crisp air, so that a tall, dark man left a wood road, and stood listening as the sleigh sped past.

"Oh, don't stop!" cried an eager voice. "Isn't there another verse?"

"There are two other verses," said Dorothy "but—I've forgotten them."

"Then sing the one you do know. It's worth hearing again!"

Again she sang it, as gayly as before, but for some reason, Nancy's voice trembled, and Dorothy turned to glance at her.

She saw that Nancy's cheeks were white, and her eyes wide as if with fear. A moment before her cheeks had been rosy red where the sharp wind had kissed them.

"What is it, Nancy?" Dorothy whispered.

Nancy shook her head, but the hand that held Dorothy's tightened with a nervous grip.

When the girls were once more chattering together, Nancy, leaning toward Dorothy, whispered softly: "That dark man that stood near the woods watching us as we passed,—did you see him?"

"Why, yes," whispered Dorothy, "but—" then she understood Nancy's fear. "Why, Nancy dear, your old Uncle Steve, who stole you from us once, is not living. Don't you remember that, and besides, that man didn't look the least bit like him."

"That man looked just like Bonfanti!"

"Oh,—oo," burst softly from Dorothy's lips, then she tried to comfort Nancy. "But why should he be wandering through the woods here? You've always said that he was a busy man, and once you heard him say that he had never been out of New York City."

"I know I did," Nancy said, "but I s'pose he could go somewhere else, and oh, Dorothy that man looked just like him!"