to give up his hunting habit entirely.
Laura soon appeared ready for the ride. Dave had already donned his heavy overcoat, fur cap, and his driving-gloves. He assisted the girls into the sleigh and saw to it that they were well tucked in with robes.
“Have a good time and don’t stay out too late,” were the farewell words of Mrs. Wadsworth, who had come to the door to see them off.
“Well, you know we don’t expect to be back to dinner this evening,” answered Dave. “We can get something to eat at Coburntown, or some other place, and then drive back in the moonlight.”
“Very well, but don’t make it too late,” answered the lady of the mansion. And then Dave took up the reins, chirped to the team, and away the sleigh started out of the Wadsworth grounds and down the highway leading to the Basswood home.
Ben was on the lookout for them, and by the time Dave had drawn up beside the horse-block he was outside to meet them.
“Good afternoon, everybody,” he said gaily, lifting his cap. “This is just fine of you to take me along.”
“Let Ben come in back here with me,” said Laura, “and that will give Jessie a chance to sit in front. I know she always likes to be up ahead,” and Laura smiled knowingly.
“Suits me,” answered Ben, quickly; and then assisted Jessie to make the change, which, however, the miss did not undertake without blushing, for it may as well be admitted here Jessie thought as much of Dave as he did of her.
“Oh, Dave, do you think the grays will behave themselves to-day?” asked the girl, partly to conceal her embarrassment.
“I’m going to make them behave,” he answered, sturdily.
“I don’t believe they have been out of the stable for several days. You know we don’t use the horses nearly as much as we used to, before we got the automobile.”
“I’ll watch them.” Dave looked behind him. “All right back there?”
“Yes,” answered his sister. “But please don’t drive too fast.”
“I don’t believe sleighing will seem too fast after the riding we have been doing in the auto,” answered the brother. He took up the reins again, and once more the turnout sped along the highway.
They made a turn, passed along the main street of Crumville, and also passed the large Wadsworth jewelry works, and then took to a road leading to Coburntown, some miles distant. The air was cold but clear, with the bright sunshine sparkling on the snow, and all of the young people were in the best of humor.
“Say, Dave, how would you like to be back at Oak Hall?” cried Ben, while the sleigh sped along. “Wouldn’t we have the dandy time snowballing each other, and snowballing old Horsehair?”
“So we would, Ben,” answered Dave, his eyes gleaming. “We sure did have some good times at that school.”
“How are you and Roger getting along with your civil engineering course?”
“All right, I think. Mr. Ramsdell says he is greatly pleased with our work.”
“That’s fine. I almost wish I had taken up civil engineering myself. But dad wants me to go into real estate with him. He thinks there is a big chance in that line these days, when Crumville is just beginning to wake up.”
“Hasn’t your dad got a big rival in Aaron Poole?”
“Oh, no! Poole isn’t in it any more when it comes to big deals. You see, he was so close and miserly in all his business affairs that a great many people became afraid of him.”
“What has become of Nat Poole?” questioned Laura. “Did he go back to Oak Hall?”
“For a short while only. When his folks found out that he had failed to graduate they were awfully angry. Mr. Poole claimed that it was the fault of the school and so he took Nat away and told him he would have to go to work. I think Nat is working in some store, although where, I don’t know.”
“I don’t think it’s in Crumville or we should have seen him,” said Dave.
“I never want to meet that boy again,” pouted Jessie. “I’ll never get over how meanly he acted toward us.”
“It’s not so much Nat’s fault as it is his bringing up,” remarked Ben. “His father never treated him half decently. But I hope Nat makes a man of himself in spite of the way he used to treat us,” went on the youth generously.
“By the way, Ben, didn’t you say your father had gone away?” queried Dave, a few minutes later.
“Yes, he has gone to Chicago on very important business. It seems an old friend of his–a Mr. Enos, who was once his partner in an art store–died, and now the lawyers want to see my father about settling up the Enos estate.”
“An art store?” queried Dave. “I never knew that your father had been in any such business.”
“It was years ago–before my folks came to Crumville. You see, my father and this Mr. Enos had been chums from early boyhood. My father says that Mr. Enos was a very peculiar sort of man, who was all wrapped up in pictures and painting. He got my father to advance a thousand dollars he had saved up, and on that money the two opened an art store. But they couldn’t make a go of it, and so they gave it up, and while Mr. Enos went West my father came here.”
“Maybe the dead man left your father some money,” suggested Laura.
“That is what my mother said to dad. But he thinks not. He thinks it is more than likely Mr. Enos died in debt and left his affairs all tangled up, and that the lawyers want my father to help straighten them out.”
“I’d like to be able to paint,” said Jessie, with a sigh. “I think some of those little water-colors are just too lovely for anything.”
“Why don’t you take it up? There must be some teacher in Crumville,” returned Dave.
“Let’s both do it!” cried Laura. “I used to paint a little before father and I did so much traveling. I would like to take it up again. It would be very interesting.”
While the young folks were talking, the pair of mettlesome grays had been speeding over the snow of the road at a good rate of speed. Dave, however, had them well in hand, so that there was little danger of their running away.
“We’ll be to Benson Crossroads soon, Dave,” remarked Ben a while later, after they had passed over a long hill lined on either side with tidy farms. “Which road are you going to take–through Hacklebury or around Conover’s Hill?”
“I haven’t made up my mind,” answered Dave. He looked at Jessie. “Have you any preference?”
“Oh, let us go up around Conover’s Hill!” cried Jessie. “That is always such a splendid ride. There is so much of an outlook.”
“Yes, let us go by way of the hill by all means,” added Laura. “It isn’t very nice through Hacklebury, past all those woolen mills.”
“All right, the Conover road it is,” answered Dave; and forward they went once more as fast as ever.
They soon passed the Crossroads,
