up before the fire, and
it would be quite jolly."

He shook his head, a great weariness in his eyes. "I'm too done up for
society, even yours. I'd rather you went down. You will, won't you?"

"Certainly, if you won't have me. Rest well. I shall see that they
send you up something decent."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not as hungry as I was, somehow. Good night,
Man."

"Good night, Boy."

"Shake hands, will you?"

He pressed mine with all his little force, and shook it again and
again, looking up in my face. Then he bade me "Good night" once more,
abruptly, and retreated into his room.

I went to my quarters at the other end of the passage, and was glad of
the fire which had begun to roar fiercely in a small round stove, like
a gnome with a pipe growing out of his head. I had a sponge, changed,
and descended to the salon, only to learn that the eating arrangements
were carried on in another building, at some distance from the hotel.
Feeling like a belated insect of summer overtaken by winter cold, I
darted down the path indicated, to the restaurant, where I found the
Americans, already seated at just such a long table as I had pictured,
and still in their knickerbockers. There was, in the big room, a
sprinkling of little tables under the closed windows, but they were
not laid for a meal; and a chair being pulled out for me by a waiter,
exactly opposite my two fellow-guests, I took it and sat down.

My first thought was to order something for the Little Pal, and to
secure a promise that it should reach him hot, and soon. I then
devoted myself to my own dinner, which would have been more enjoyable
had I had the Boy's companionship. I had worked slowly through soup
and fish, and arrived at the inevitable veal, when I was addressed by
one of the Americans--him of the cleft chin and light curly hair,
whose voice I had heard first in the salon.

"You came up by the mule path, didn't you?"

I answered civilly in the affirmative, aware that all my "points" were
being noted by both men.

"Must have been a stiff journey in this weather."

"We came into the mist and snow just below the Col."

"Your friend is done up, isn't he?"

"Oh, he's a very plucky young chap," I replied, careful for the Boy's
reputation as a pilgrim; "but he's a bit fagged, and will be better
off dining in his own room."

"I expect he'll be all right to-morrow. Are you going to try and get
to Chambery, or will you return to Aix by train?"

"