an't ye wait till we get t' a crossin', ye little termagant?"

"No--no!" She tore her hands from him, and, with a quick, lithe leap
from the low sleigh, landed, a bit dazed, in the snow banked high on the
side of the street.

Uncle Sammy stared after her a moment. Then he remembered the boy
behind.

"Hi--there!" he cried, looking over his shoulder as he reached for his
whip. "Git!"

But Cody had the street-boy's quickness. All he had to do was to let go
the end of rope he held, and the leg-breaker slipped smoothly back,
while the king's runnered chariot shot ahead, drawn by the flying horses
on whose backs the whip had descended.

"Ugh!" shivered Split, as she made her way out of the drift. "It's cold,
Jack. Let's run."

Together they hauled the leg-breaker up the hill, parting at the
snow-caked, wandering flights of steps, which seemed weary and worn with
their endless task of climbing the mountain to Madigan's door.

Irene mounted them quickly. She was cold, and it had grown very dark and
late; so late that the lamp shone out from the dining-room, warning her
that it must be dangerously near to dinner-time. She had reached the
last flight when Sissy came flying out along the porch to meet her.

"Split--ssh!" she cautioned, with a friendliness that surprised Split,
who remembered how well she had washed that round, innocent face in the
snow only a few hours ago--the face of Sissy, the unforgiving. "Dinner's
ready," she went on, "but father isn't down yet. Go round the back way,
and you can get in without his knowing how late you are."

Split did not budge. The sight of Sissy had made her a Madigan again,
prepared for any emergency the appearance of her arch-enemy might
portend. "What are you up to?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Oh!" Sissy turned haughtily on her heel. "If you want to go in and
catch it--go."

But Split did not want to catch it. Her day's experience had made her
content to bear the eccentricities of her humble foster-father, but she
was by no means anxious to be the instrument that should provoke a
characteristic expression of them.

She slipped around the back way, passing through Wong's big kitchen, the
heat and odors of which were grateful messages of cheer to her chilled
little body. She flew up-stairs and tore off her wet clothing, and was
out in the hall, buttoning hastily as she walked, when the door-bell
rang.

In some previous existence Split Madigan must have been a most
intel