x-sleigh and his two handsome greys to give them a
sleigh-ride. There was room for them all, and for Mr Snow's little
Emily, and for half a dozen besides had they been there; so, well
wrapped up with blankets and buffalo-robes, away they went. Was there
ever anything so delightful, so exhilarating? Even Graeme laughed and
clapped her hands, and the greys flew over the ground, and passed every
sleigh and sledge on the road.

"The bonnie creatures!" she exclaimed; and Mr Snow, who loved his
greys, and was proud of them, took the oft repeated exclamation as a
compliment to himself, and drove in a way to show his favourites to the
best advantage. Away they went, up hill and down, through the village
and over the bridge, past the mill to the woods, where the tall hemlocks
and cedars stood dressed in white "like brides." Marian had no thought
of sorrowful things in her heart now. They came home again the other
way, past Judge Merle's and the school-house, singing and laughing in a
way that made the sober-minded boys and girls of Merleville, to whom
sleigh-riding was no novelty, turn round in astonishment as they passed.
The people in the store, and the people in the blacksmith's shop, and
even the old ladies in their warm kitchens, opened the door and looked
out to see the cause of the pleasant uproar. All were merry, and all
gave voice to their mirth except Mr Snow's little Emily, and she was
too full of astonishment at the others to think of saying anything
herself. But none of them enjoyed the ride more than she, though it was
not her first by many. None of them all remembered it so well, or spoke
of it so often. It was the beginning of sleigh-riding to them, but it
was the beginning of a new life to little Emily.

"Isna she a queer little creature?" whispered Harry to Graeme, as her
great black eyes turned from one to another, full of grave wonder.

"She's a bonnie little creature," said Graeme, caressing the little hand
that had found its way to hers, "and good, too, I'm sure."

"Grandma don't think so," said the child, gravely.

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "What bad things do you do?"

"I drop stitches and look out of the window, and I hate to pick over
beans."

Harry whistled.

"What an awful wee sinner! And does your grandma punish you ever? Does
she whip you?"

The child's black eyes flashed.

"She daren't. Father wouldn't let her. She gives me stints, and sends
me to bed."

"The Turk!" exclai