“Did I?  I was thinking of something else, I guess.”  Two lumps were put in the cup Laine handed her.  “Where did you all go this afternoon?”

Claudia looked at Laine.  “I don’t know the names of the places around here.  Where did we go?”

“We went—­” Laine put his cup on the table and, drawing a chair closer to the fire, sat down.  “I’ve forgotten the name of the road.”

“Forgotten!” Dorothea stopped the rattling of the spoons.  “You told me once you knew all the roads within twenty miles of New York in the pitch-dark.  I think it’s very funny you don’t know where you’ve been.  You couldn’t have been looking much.”

“We didn’t look at all.  It was too cold—­” Laine put another log on the fire—­“the roads were frozen, and to keep the horses from slipping was all we could attend to.”

“Couldn’t you talk?”

“Not a great deal.  Miss Keith insists upon keeping her horse ahead of mine.  It is snowing!  Did you know it?”

Dorothea jumped up and ran to the window.  “It wasn’t just now when I looked out.  Yes, it is.”  She peered through the pane, pressing her nose close to it.  “It hasn’t snowed since that first week you came, Cousin Claudia, and that’s nearly a month ago.  I hope it will snow fifty feet deep, so the cars can’t run, and that the river will freeze so the boats can’t go down it, and then you will have to stay; and so would we, and we could all be together Christmas.  Don’t you wish so, too, Uncle Winthrop?” She came back and leaned against her uncle’s chair.  “Did you know Cousin Claudia was going home next week?”

“She told me so this afternoon.”

“I certainly am.”  Elbows on her knees and chin in her hands, Claudia looked straight into the fire.  “If your wish comes true, Dorothea, I’ll get an air-ship.  I expected to stay three weeks, and will have stayed five before I get back.  I ought to be home this minute.”

“I don’t think five weeks is long.  I think it’s very short.”  Dorothea took a seat on a stool at her uncle’s feet, and looked up in his face.  “Father says he thinks it’s downright mean in her to go before we do.  Don’t you think she might stay, Uncle Winthrop?”

“I do.”  Laine changed his position and looked away from Dorothea’s eyes.  “Is there nothing we can do to make her change her mind?”

“Is there?” Dorothea fumed to Claudia.  “I think you ought to, for mother says Uncle Winthrop is just beginning to act like a Christian in coming to see her regularly, and when you go he might stop acting that way.  Are you going to stay to dinner to-night?” She took Laine’s hand and intertwined her fingers in his.  “Please do.”

“In these clothes?”