"Don't you fellows really want to go with me?" asked Dave.
"Of course we do, but Well, Roger and I talked it over and we—that is—well, we thought it would be nice to let you go with your father and uncle—kind of family gathering, you know. We'll be on hand by the time you get back to the house."
At that moment the merry jingle of sleighbells sounded from outside the mansion and a comfortable two-seated sleigh came up to the door, driven by one of the men from the barn.
"There is your turnout ready for you!" cried Roger. "What time does that Western train get in?"
"Ten-twenty, if it's on time," replied Dave promptly, for he had the time-table well in mind. "But the snowstorm may have delayed it."
"Well, I hope for your sake the train is on time," said Phil Lawrence. "If it isn't, I suppose every minute's delay will seem like an hour to you."
"More like two," answered Dave, and then, as he heard his father calling to him, he hurried out into the hall. There stood Mr. David Porter and his brother Dunston, both ready for the long drive to the depot. Behind the pair were a lady and gentleman of middle age, Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth, and their daughter Jessie, while in the li-
