THE Hulburts were to spend the holidays at Round Hill, and it was on the day before Christmas—the day on which Crispin was to arrive—that Sally and Meriweather went for a ride. There had been an ice-storm the night before, and the world was of a white and glittering gorgeousness which seemed artificial in its stiffness, like the setting of a pantomime.
Sally, with her red coat and copper hair, was as vivid as a cardinal against the frozen background. Her spirits were at top-notch. There was a week ahead of her in the same house with Merry. Why quarrel with the gods?
Their horses went carefully over the slippery roads. Sally welcomed the slowness. They could talk as they rode, and there were so many things to talk about.
"Aren't you glad you are living, Merry?" she said out of a full heart.
He was glad. He might have been happier if Hildegarde were beside him. But he had had her yesterday, and it was because of yesterday that he was not unhappy, even though Hildegarde was at this moment meeting Crispin at the station, having with him the first hour of reunion.
