uined," cried Judith, her face transformed with rage. "It's
utterly ruined and she did it. It isn't the first time she's flung
coffee cups around. Last winter she ruined my cousin's new suit of
clothes. She's the most careless, awkward, clumsy creature I ever saw.
I----"

A curious little group had gathered over near the fireplace, but Judith
was too angry to care who heard what she was saying. In the meantime,
Lawrence Upton had taken his stand between Judith and Molly, feeling
somehow that he might protect poor Molly from the onslaught. Presently
he took her hand and drew it through his arm.

"Suppose we join the McLeans," he said. "I see they are having supper
all together over there." As they turned to leave, he said to Judith in
a cold, even voice that seemed to bring her back to her senses:

"I upset the coffee. Blanchard fell against me and joggled my arm. If
there is any reparation I can make, I shall be glad to do it."

Whereupon, Judith departed to the dressing room and was not seen again
until it was time to leave.

"What a tiger-cat she is!" whispered Lawrence to Molly, as he led her
across the room.

Molly did not answer. She was afraid to trust her voice just then, and
still more afraid of what she might say if she dared speak.

"What was all that rumpus over there?" demanded Judy when the young
people had joined their friends.

"Oh, just a little volcanic activity on the part of Mount AEtna and a
good deal of slinging of hot lava. Miss Molly and I are refugees from
the eruption, and Mount AEtna has gone upstairs."

"You mean Miss AEtna Blount?" asked Judy.

"The same," said Lawrence.

When it was time for the Wellington party to catch the trolley car home,
they emerged from the warm, cheerful dining hall into a world of
dazzling whiteness. The trees were clothed in it, and the ground was
covered with a crust of ice as hard and shining as marble.

A path of ashes was sprinkled before them, so that they walked safely as
far as the station.

"Heaven help us at the other end," Mrs. McLean exclaimed, clinging to
the doctor's arm.

The car was late in arriving at Exmoor station. At last it hove into
sight, moving at a hesitating gait along the slippery rails. But it had
a comfortably warm interior and they were glad to climb in out of the
bitter cold.

"All aboard!" called the conductor. "Last car to-night."

There is always a gloomy fatality in the announcement, "Last car
to-night." It is