Laughing aloud she held on "tight." Hollis was her true knight; she would
not have been afraid to cross the Alps on that sled if he had asked her
to!

She was in a talkative mood to-night, but her horse pranced on and would
not listen. She wanted to tell him about _vibgyor_. The half mile was
quickly travelled and he whirled the sled through the large gateway and
around the house to the kitchen door. The long L at the back of the house
seemed full of doors.

"There, Mousie, here you are!" he exclaimed. "And don't you miss your
lesson to-morrow."

"To-morrow is Saturday! oh, I had forgotten. And I can go to see
Evangelist to-night."

"You haven't said 'thank you' for your last ride on Flyaway."

"I will when I'm sure that it is," she returned with her eyes laughing.

He turned her over into a snowdrift and ran off whistling; springing up
she brushed the snow off face and hands and with a very serious face
entered the kitchen. The kitchen was long and low, bright with the sunset
shining in at two windows and cheery with its carpeting of red, yellow
and green mingled confusingly in the handsome oilcloth.

Unlike Hollis, Marjorie was the outgrowth of home influences; the kitchen
oilcloth had something to do with her views of life, and her mother's
broad face and good-humored eyes had a great deal more. Good-humor in the
mother had developed sweet humor in the child.