“He doesn’t dare to get mad with Jill, for she’d take his head off in two minutes if he did,” growled Joe Flint, still smarting from the rebuke Jill had given him for robbing the little ones of their safe coast because he fancied it.

“She wouldn’t! she’s a dear! You needn’t sniff at her because she is poor.  She’s ever so much brighter than you are, or she wouldn’t always be at the head of your class, old Joe,” cried the girls, standing by their friend with a unanimity which proved what a favorite she was.

Joe subsided with as scornful a curl to his nose as its chilly state permitted, and Merry Grant introduced a subject of general interest by asking abruptly,—­

“Who is going to the candy-scrape to-night?”

“All of us.  Frank invited the whole set, and we shall have a tip-top time.  We always do at the Minots’,” cried Sue, the timid trembler.

“Jack said there was a barrel of molasses in the house, so there would be enough for all to eat and some to carry away.  They know how to do things handsomely;” and the speaker licked his lips, as if already tasting the feast in store for him.

“Mrs. Minot is a mother worth having,” said Molly Loo, coming up with Boo on the sled; and she knew what it was to need a mother, for she had none, and tried to care for the little brother with maternal love and patience.

“She is just as sweet as she can be!” declared Merry, enthusiastically.

“Especially when she has a candy-scrape,” said Joe, trying to be amiable, lest he should be left out of the party.

Whereat they all laughed, and went gayly away for a farewell frolic, as the sun was setting and the keen wind nipped fingers and toes as well as noses.

Down they went, one after another, on the various coasts,—­solemn Frank, long Gus, gallant Ed, fly-away Molly Loo, pretty Laura and Lotty, grumpy Joe, sweet-faced Merry with Sue shrieking wildly behind her, gay Jack and gypsy Jill, always together,—­one and all bubbling over with the innocent jollity born of healthful exercise.  People passing in the road below looked up and smiled involuntarily at the red-cheeked lads and lasses, filling the frosty air with peals of laughter and cries of triumph as they flew by in every conceivable attitude; for the fun was at its height now, and the oldest and gravest observers felt a glow of pleasure as they looked, remembering their own young days.

“Jack, take me down that coast.  Joe said I wouldn’t dare to do it, so I must,” commanded Jill, as they paused for breath after the long trudge up hill.  Jill, of course, was not her real name, but had been given because of her friendship with Jack, who so admired Janey Pecq’s spirit and fun.

“I guess I wouldn’t.  It is very bumpy and ends in a big drift; not half so nice as this one.  Hop on and we’ll have a good spin across the pond;” and Jack brought “Thunderbolt” round with a skilful swing and an engaging air that would have won obedience from anybody but wilful Jill.