“It was stupid of me not to have one of those small boys go for Bert or Phil,” she said to herself.  “I should rather it would be Phil, because he takes care of one so nicely, and I’m sure he wouldn’t laugh.  I’d be willing to have them laugh at me, though, if I could only see them.”

By this time Ruth should have begun to see houses, and she had already decided that she should stop at the first one she saw and ask for help.  But to her dismay no houses appeared, and the road seemed narrower and more shut in by trees than it had before.

Still she clung tenaciously to the idea that she was on the right road, and that if she kept on long enough she should come to the houses.  She tried to comfort herself by thinking that she had been too absorbed on the way down to notice how the road turned and how far the houses really were from the pond.  Her head ached enough to make her feel a little dazed, and her nose seemed as large as a small apple when she cautiously touched it.

Suddenly she was quite sure that she was on the wrong road, and realized that she had no idea in which direction to go to get home.  Besides that she was so tired that she could hardly keep on walking.  Tears started to her eyes, but she winked them away.  “I won’t cry,” she said boldly, as though she thought that speaking aloud would make it more binding upon her.  “And I will keep moving, for then I can’t freeze, and it seems terrifically cold.”

She stood still for a moment trying to peer into the darkness ahead of her and wondering whether there might be houses near, or whether it would be better to go back and try to find the pond.

Suddenly on the still, cold air floated the sound of a voice.  “Ruth!” it called,—­and then after a moment of silence, “Ruth Shirley!” The sound was so drawn-out, so far-reaching, that as it echoed about her Ruth positively shook with fright and excitement.  Then she started in the direction from which it seemed to come, a pathetic little figure stumbling from weariness.

After Ruth’s departure Arthur tried hard to fix his mind on his story, but even the charm of Treasure Island failed to distract him.  In spite of himself his thoughts turned always to the starlit winter night, and to the pond gay with bonfires and torches and covered with boys and girls.  After a while he closed the book with a snap, and went to the piano, where he softly tried over some new music Ruth had left there.  Then came a sound of sleigh-bells, the tramp of feet on the piazza, and the peal of the door-bell.

As Katie opened the door, a cyclone swept in which resolved itself into Phil, Frank and Joe, all talking at once.  “We’ve come to take you over to Katharine’s for the supper, and you’ve got to go,” they announced almost as one man.

“It’s no use for you to say no,” continued Phil, “for we shall use force if necessary.  We’ve had our orders not to come back without you, and you surely wouldn’t deprive our dear little Joe of the chance of a supper.”