Carol laughed at the picture, but marched off for the bottle of cough medicine and the powder box, and while he carefully measured out a teaspoonful of the one for himself, she applied the other with gay devotion.

“But I truly think you should not go to Happy Hollow to-night,” she said.  “Mr. Baldwin will go with me, bless his faithful old pillary heart.  And you ought to stay in.  It is very stormy, and that long walk—­”

“Oh, nonsense, a little cough like this!  You are dead tired yourself; you stay at home to-night, and Baldwin and I will go.  You really ought to, Carol, you are on the jump every minute.  Won’t you?”

“Most certainly not.  I haven’t a cold, have I?  Maybe you want to keep me away so you can flirt with some of the Hollowers while I am out of sight.  Absolutely vetoed.  I go.”

“Please, Carol,—­won’t you?  Because I ask it?”

She snuggled up to him at that and said:  “It’s too lonesome, Davie, and I have to go to remind you of your rubbers, and to muffle up your throat.  But—­”

The ring of the telephone disturbed them, and she ran to answer.

“Mr. Baldwin?—­Yes—­Oh, that is nice of you.  I’ve been trying to coax him to stay home myself.  David, Mr. Baldwin thinks you should not go out to-night, with such a cold, and he will take the meeting, and—­oh, please, honey.”

David took the receiver from her hand.

“Thanks very much, Mr. Baldwin, that is mighty kind of you, but I feel fine to-night.—­Oh, sure, just a little cold.  Yes, of course.  Come and go with us, won’t you?  Yes, be here about seven.  Better make it a quarter earlier, it’s bad walking to-night.”

“David, please,” coaxed Carol.

“Goosie!  Who but a wife would make an invalid of a man because he sneezes?” David laughed, and Carol said no more.

But a few minutes later, as she was carefully arranging a soft fur hat over her hair and David stood patiently holding her coat, there came a light tap at the door.

“It is Mr. Daniels,” said Carol.  “I know his knock.  Come in, Father Daniels.  I knew it was you.”

The old elder from next door, his gray hair standing in every direction from the wind he had encountered bareheaded, his little gray eyes twinkling bright, opened the door.

“You crazy kids aren’t going down to that Hollow a night like this,” he protested.

They nodded, laughing.

“Well, David can’t go,” he said decidedly.  “That’s a bad cold he’s got, and it’s been hanging on too long.  I can’t go myself for I can’t walk, but I’ll call up my son-in-law and make him go.  So take off your hat, Parson, and—­ No you come over and read the Bible to me while the young folks go gadding.  I need some ministerial attention myself,—­I’m wavering in my faith.”