ice, although as a rule her father's customers received scanty
tolerance at her hands.

"What are the Valley roads like, Marshall?" asked a Wexbridge man,
between two squirts of tobacco juice.

"Bad," said Bruce briefly. "Another warm day will finish the
sleighing."

"Are they crossing at Malley's Creek yet?" asked Plowden.

"No, Jack Carr got in there day before yesterday. Nearly lost his
mare. I came round by the main road," responded Bruce.

The door opened at this point and Tony Mack came in. As soon as he
closed the door he doubled up in a fit of chuckles, which lasted until
he was purple in the face.

"Is the man crazy?" demanded Plowden, who had never seen lean little
Tony visited like this before.

"Crazy nothin'," retorted Tony. "You'll laugh too, when you hear it.
Such a joke! Hee-tee-tee-hee-e. Theodora Whitney has been badgering
Judith Stewart so much about bein' an old maid that Judith's got mad
and vowed she'll marry the first man that asks her.
Hee-tee-tee-hee-e-e-e! My old woman was there and heard her. She'll
keep her word, too. She ain't old Joshua Stewart's daughter for
nothin'. If he said he'd do a thing he did it if it tuck the hair
off. If I was a young feller now! Hee-tee-tee-hee-e-e-e!"

Bruce Marshall swung round on one foot. His face was crimson and if
looks could kill, Tony Mack would have fallen dead in the middle of
his sniggers.

"You needn't mind doing up that parcel for me," he said to Nora. "I'll
not wait for it."

On his way to the door Eben King brushed past him. A shout of laughter
from the assembled men followed them. The others streamed out in their
wake, realizing that a race was afoot. Tony alone remained inside,
helpless with chuckling.

Eben King's horse was tied at the door. He had nothing to do but step
in and drive off. Bruce had put his mare in at Billy Bender's across
the bridge, intending to spend the evening there. He knew that this
would handicap him seriously, but he strode down the road with a
determined expression on his handsome face. Fifteen minutes later he
drove past the store, his gray mare going at a sharp gait. The crowd
in front of Plowden's cheered him, their sympathies were with him for
King was not popular. Tony had come out and shouted, "Here's luck to
you, brother," after which he doubled up with renewed laughter. Such a
lark! And he, Tony, had set it afoot! It would be a story to tell for
years.

Marshall, with his lips set and his dream