nging to his seat, he started the car, and they went bumping
unevenly along the road. No more singing now; no more laughing and
telling of tales; deep in each breast lay the presage of coming ill;
four pairs of eyes scanned the dreary waste of surrounding country,
while four brains busily counted up the number of miles which still lay
between them and their destination. Twenty miles at least, and not a
house in sight except one dreary stone edifice standing back from the
road, behind a mass of evergreen trees.

"This fellow is no good for rough roads. He would wear out a car in no
time, to say nothing of the passengers. Can't think why we haven't had a
puncture before now!" said Jack gloomily; whereupon Margaret called him
sharply to order.

"Don't say such things . . . don't think them. It's very wrong. You ought
always to expect the best----"

"Don't suppose my thinking is going to have any effect on rubber, do
you?" Jack's tone was decidedly snappy. He was a lover, and it tortured
him to think that an accident to the car might delay his meeting with
his love. He had never spent a Christmas Day with Myra before; surely on
this day of days she would be kinder, sweeter, relax a little of her
proud restraint. Perhaps there would be mistletoe. . . . Suppose he found
himself alone with Myra beneath the mistletoe bough? Suppose he kissed
her? Suppose she turned upon him with her dignified little air and
reproached him, saying he had no right? Suppose he said, "_Myra! will
you give me the right?_" . . .

No wonder that the car seemed slow to the lover's mind; no wonder that
every fresh jerk and strain deepened the frown on his brow. The road was
strewn with rough, sharp stones; but in another mile or two they would
be on a smooth high-road once more. If only they could last out those
few miles!

[Sidenote: A Puncture]

Bang! A sharp, pistol-like noise rent the air, a noise which told its
own tale to the listening ears. A tyre had punctured, and a dreary
half-hour's delay must be faced while the youthful chauffeur repaired
the damage. The passengers leaped to the ground, and exhausted
themselves in lamentations. They were already behind time, and this new
delay would make them later than ever. . . . Suddenly they became aware
that they were cold and tired--shivering with cold. Peg looked down at
her boots, and supposed that there were feet inside, but as a matter of
sensation it was really impossible to say. Margaret's