;
she folded her fat hands with no uncertain grip across the slight
frontal hollow which answered her purpose for a waist. Her anger was
chiefly based upon alarm, and that alarm was not alone for her
daughter. She was anxious for the man himself, and her anxiety found
vent in that peculiar angry protest which is so little meant by those
who resort to it. The good dame was on pins and needles of nervous
suspense. Had Grey suddenly appeared upon the scene doubtless her
kindly face would have at once wreathed itself into a broad expanse of
smiles. But the moments flew by and still the little group waited for
the coming which was so long delayed.

Three of the young men approached the agitated mother from the
juvenile gathering. Their faces were solemn. Their own optimism had
given way before the protracted delay. Tim Gleichen and Peter Furrers
came first, Andy, the choreman, brought up the rear.

"We've been thinking," said Tim, feeling it necessary to explain the
process which had brought them to a certain conclusion, "that maybe we
might just drive down the trail to see if we can see anything of him,
Mrs. Malling. Ye can't just say how things have gone with him. Maybe
he's struck a 'dump' and his sleigh's got smashed up. There's some
tidy drifts to come through, and it's dead easy to get dumped in 'em.
Peter and Andy here have volunteered to go with me."

"That's real sensible of you, Tim," replied Mrs. Malling, with an air
of relief. She felt quite convinced that an accident had happened. She
turned to the minister. In this matter she considered he was the best
judge. Like many of her neighbours, she looked to the minister as the
best worldly as well as spiritual adviser of his flock. "Like as not
the boys will be able to help him?" she suggested, in a tone of
inquiry.

"I don't think I should let them go yet," the man of the cloth
replied. "I should give him an hour. It seems to me it will be time
enough then. Ah, here's Mrs. Gurridge," as that lady appeared in the
doorway. "There's no sign of him," he called out in anticipation of
her inquiry. "I hope you are not letting the bride worry too much."

"It's too dreadful," said Mrs. Ganthorn, as her thoughts reverted to
Prudence waiting in the school-ma'am's sitting-room.

"Whatever can have happened to him?"

"That's what's been troubling us this hour and more," snapped the
girl's mother. She was in no humour to be asked silly questions,
however little they were