p into that and shut her tired eyes and lie
there, she wouldn't care if she didn't waken for a month. She felt that
it would be bliss to sleep through Christmas and the entire vacation.

The long walk came to an end at last. The roundabout route through Stone
Hollow led them near Locust, and, with their arms full of mistletoe, the
merry picnickers parted from Lloyd and Betty at the gate. Gay exclaimed
enthusiastically over the beautiful old avenue, leading under the
snow-covered locusts to the house, but to Lloyd's relief her invitation
to come in was refused. There were a dozen reasons why they could not
stop, but they promised to be over early next morning.

"It has been the very loveliest picnic I ever went to in my whole life,"
declared Gay, as they turned away. "I'd like to turn around and do it
all over again."

"So would I," echoed Betty, warmly. "I'm not at all tired."

Lloyd looked at her in vague wonder as they plodded up the avenue. "I
don't know what's the mattah with me," she said, "that I couldn't keep
up with you all, unless it's true what Miss Gilmer said. The ice is too
thin for holiday dissipations, and this picnic was too great a weight
for it."

Betty glanced at her white face anxiously. "Go and lie down the rest of
the afternoon," she said. "I'll tie up your packages."

"Oh, if you only would!" exclaimed Lloyd, gratefully. "But it seems too
much to ask of any one. Don't tell mothah that I got so woh'n out. I'll
be all right by evening."

"She hasn't come home yet," said Betty, looking ahead of them at the
smooth expanse of newly fallen snow. "There isn't a track either of foot
or wheel."

"Then maybe I'll have time for a nap, and be all rested when she comes,"
said Lloyd. "I don't want her to get any of Miss Gilmer's notions about
me."

CHAPTER IX.

A PROGRESSIVE CHRISTMAS PARTY

LLOYD stood at the window in the falling twilight and looked out across
the snow. It had been an ideal Christmas Day. She could feel the chill
of the white winter world outside as she leaned against the frosty pane,
but in her scarlet dress, with the holly berries at her belt and in her
hair, she looked the embodiment of Christmas warmth and cheer, and as if
no cold could touch her.

The candles had not yet been lighted, but the room was filled with the
ruddy glow of the big wood fire. It shone warmly on the frames of the
portraits and the tall gilded harp with its shining strings, and gave a
burnish