“They are,” he replied; “but I don’t mind it.  Well, if I had tried for years I could not have found such a test of character as we had to-night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, well, you two girls did not behave exactly alike.  I liked the way you behaved.  You helped me out of a confounded scrape.”

“Would you have tried for years to find a test?” she asked, concealing the keenness of her query under a laugh.

“I should have been well rewarded if I had, by such a fine contrast,” he replied.

Carrie’s faculties had not so congealed but that his words set her thinking.  She had entertained at times the impression that she and Lottie were his favorites.  Had he taken them out that night together in the hope of contrasts, of finding tests that would help his halting decision?  He had ventured where the intuitions of a girl like Carrie Mitchell were almost equal to second-sight; and she was alert for what would come next.

He accepted her invitation to come in and warm his feet at the glowing fire in the grate, which Carrie’s father had made before retiring.  Mrs. Mitchell, feeling that her daughter was with an old friend and playmate, did not think the presence of a chaperon essential, and left the young people alone.  Carrie bustled about, brought cake, and made hot lemonade, while Marstern stretched his feet to the grate with a luxurious sense of comfort and complacency, thinking how homelike it all was and how paradisiacal life would become if such a charming little Hebe presided over his home.  His lemonade became nectar offered by such hands.

She saw the different expression in his eyes.  It was now homage, decided preference for one and not mere gallantry to two.  Outwardly she was demurely oblivious and maintained simply her wonted friendliness.  Marstern, however, was thawing in more senses than one, and he was possessed by a strong impulse to begin an open siege at once.

“I haven’t had a single suit of any kind yet, Carrie,” he said, dropping the prefix of “Miss,” which had gradually been adopted as they had grown up.

“Oh, well, that was the position of all the great lawyers once,” she replied, laughing.  Marstern’s father was wealthy, and all knew that he could afford to be briefless for a time.

“I may never be great; but I shall work as hard as any of them,” he continued.  “To tell you the honest truth, however, this would be the happiest Christmas Eve of my life if I had a downright suit on my hands.  Why can’t I be frank with you and say I’d like to begin the chief suit of my life now and here—­a suit for this little hand?  I’d plead for it as no lawyer ever pleaded before.  I settled that much down on the ice.”

“And if I hadn’t happened to behave on the ice in a manner agreeable to your lordship, you would have pleaded with the other girl?” she remarked, withdrawing her hand and looking him directly in the eyes.