he replied honestly enough that he would
do anything rather than be left alone. Then, of course, they said, there
should be no walk, but to this he would not listen. The party trooped
downstairs, accordingly, and out into the street. The walking was vile,
but, as Julia had long ago said, if they were to be deterred by slush
they would never get anywhere or see anything.

It proved to be too late and too dark to either enter the castle or get
much of an idea of its exterior. Returning, they paused again to look
into the lighted window of the nice little book-shop. The numerous
photographs of what they were entitled to behold from the windows of
their hotel seemed more convincing than photographs usually were. As the
young people inspected them, they became reassured. It was not credible
that such a noble vista would forever deny itself to such earnest
pilgrims. When their uncle introduced this time his ancient formula
about the certainty of brilliant sunshine in the morning, they somehow
felt like believing him.

"Yes--I really think it must change," Julia declared, with her
fascinated glance upon the photographs.

Alfred looked at his watch. "We'd better get along to the hotel, hadn't
we?" he suggested.

"By the way"--Thorpe began, with a certain uneasiness of
manner--"speaking of dinner, wouldn't you like to dine at the big table
d'hote, instead of up in our sitting-room?"

"If you're tired of our dining alone--by all means," answered Julia,
readily. There was obvious surprise, however, in both her look and tone.

"Tired nothing!" he assured her. "I like it better than anything else in
the world. But what I mean is--I was thinking, seeing that this is
such a great winter-resort, and all the swagger people of Europe come
here--that probably you youngsters would enjoy seeing the crowd."

Julia's glance, full of affectionate appreciation, showed how wholly she
divined his spirit of self-sacrifice. "We wouldn't care in the least
for it," she declared. "We enjoy being a little party by ourselves every
whit as much as you do--and we both hate the people you get at table
d'hotes--and besides, for that matter, if there are any real swells
here, you may be sure they dine in their own rooms."

"Why, of course!" Thorpe exclaimed swiftly, in palpable self-rebuke. "I
don't know what I could have been thinking of. Of course they would dine
in their rooms."

Next morning, Thorpe rose earlier than ever--with the impression