arnished the roads for us. What do
you say if we make for the village, and interview Johann Klucker's cat
on the weather?"

His tone was quite reassuring. To her transparent honesty of purpose
it seemed better that they should discuss Millicent's motive in coming
to the hotel and then dismiss it for ever. "A most excellent idea,"
she cried lightly. "I have been writing all the morning, so a breath
of fresh air will be grateful."

They passed down the steps.

They had not gone more than a few paces when the driver of an empty
carriage pulled up his vehicle and handed Bower a telegram.

"They gave it to me at St. Moritz, Herr Bower," he said. "I took a
message there for Herr Spencer, and they asked me to bring this to
you, as it would reach you more quickly than if it came by the post."

Bower thanked the man, and opened the envelop. It was a very long
telegram; but he only glanced at it in the most cursory manner before
putting it in a pocket.

At a distant corner of the road by the side of the lake, Millicent
turned for a last look at the hotel and waved a hand at them. Helen
replied.

"I almost wish now she was staying here a few days," she said
wistfully. "She ought to have seen our valley in its summer greenery."

"I fear she brought winter in her train," was Bower's comment. "But
the famous cat must decide. Here, boy," he went on, hailing a village
urchin, "where is Johann Klucker's house?"

The boy pointed to a track that ran close to the right bank of the
tiny Inn. He explained volubly, and was rewarded with a franc.

"Do you know this path?" asked Bower. "Klucker's chalet is near the
waterfall, which should be a fine sight owing to the melting snow."

It was Helen's favorite walk. She would have preferred a more
frequented route; but the group of houses described by the boy was
quite near, and she could devise no excuse for keeping to the busy
highway. As the path was narrow she walked in front. The grass and
flowers seemed to have drawn fresh tints from the snow, which had
cleared away with magical rapidity from this sheltered spot. But
the little rivulet, usually diamond bright, was now a turbulent and
foaming stream. Care was needed not to slip. If anyone fell into that
miniature torrent, it would be no easy matter to escape without broken
bones.

"Would you ever believe that a few hours' snow, followed by a hot sun,
would make such a difference to a mere ribbon of water like this?" she
asked,