ul tobogganing tips.
It isn't worth while your climbing up the hill just to climb down again,
is it? Besides, you'd probably frighten the man."

"Thanks," said Winn. "All right; I'll stay." He didn't want the Cresta
bun, and he thought that he resented Miss Marley's invitation; but, on
the other hand, he was intensely glad she was going off and leaving him
alone.

He felt uncommonly queer. Perhaps he could think of some excuse to avoid
the tea when she came back.

All the muscles of his chest seemed to have gone wrong; it hurt him to
breathe. He sat with his head down, like a man climbing a hill against a
strong wind. It was rather funny to feel ill again when he had really
forgotten he was up there for his health. That was what he felt--ill.

It was not nearly as painful a feeling as remembering Claire.
Unfortunately, it was very quickly followed by the more painful feeling.

When Miss Marley came back, he had the eyes of a creature caught in a
trap.

She took him to Cresta to tea, and it did not occur to Winn to wonder
why a woman who at forty-five habitually rode the Cresta should find it
necessary to walk at the pace of a deliberating snail. It was a pace
which at the moment suited Winn precisely.

On the whole he enjoyed his tea. Miss Marley's manners, though abrupt,
had certain fine scruples of their own. She showed no personal curiosity
and she gave Winn some really valuable tips. He began to understand why
she had so deeply resented his trifling with the Cresta.

Miss Marley was one of the few genuine workers at St. Moritz, a member
of the old band who had worked devotedly to produce the Monster which
had afterward as promptly devoured them. This fate, however, had not as
yet overtaken Miss Marley. She was too tough and too rich to be very
easily devoured. The Cresta was at once her child and her banner; she
had helped to make it, and she wound its folds around her as a screen
for her invisible kindnesses.

Menaced boys could have told how she had averted their ruin with large
checks and sharp reproofs. She had saved many homes and covered many
scandals. For girls she had a special tenderness. She had never been a
beautiful young girl, and she had a pathetic reverence for what was
frail and fair. For them she had no reproofs, only vast mercy, and
patient skill in releasing them from the traps which had caught their
flurried young senses; but for those who had set the traps she had no
mercy.

Miss Ma