“Janice, do as thou art told, or go to thy room,” ordered the mother.

The girl opened her lips as if about to protest, but courage failed her, and she hurriedly left the parlour, and flying to her room, she threw herself on the bed and wept out her sense of wrong on her pillow.

“I never would have, if he had n’t—­and it was n’t I asked him to the house—­and he took a mean advantage—­and he was n’t scolded for it, nor shamed to all the people—­and now they show him every honour, though he—­though for a year it was held up to me.”

Presently the girl became conscious of the clatter of knives and forks on plates in the room beneath her, and of an accompaniment of cheerful voices and laughter.  Far from lessening her woe, they only served to intensify it, till finally she rose in a kind of desperation, wishing only to escape from the merry sounds.  “I’ll go and see Clarion and Joggles and Jumper,” she thought.  “They love me, and—­and they don’t punish me when others are to blame.”

Not choosing to pass through the kitchen, where the dragoons would probably be sitting, she stole out of the front door, without wrap or calash, and in an instant was almost swept off her feet and nearly blinded by the rush of wind and snow.  Heeding neither, nor the instant wetting of her slippered feet, she struggled on through the waxing drifts to the stable door.  With a sigh of relief that the goal was attained, she passed through the partly open doorway and paused at last, breathless from her exertion.

On the instant she caught her breath, however, and then demanded, “Who ’s there?” A whinny from Joggles was the only response.  Taking no heed of the horse’s greeting, Janice stood, listening intently for a repetition of the sound that had alarmed her.  “I heard you,” she continued, after a moment.  Then she gave a little cry of fright, which was scarcely uttered when it was succeeded by a half-sob and half-exclamation of mingled joy and relief.  “Oh, Clarion!” she exclaimed, “you gave me such a turn, with your cold nose.  And what was mommy’s darling doing with the harness?  I thought some one was here.”

Again Joggles whinnied, and, her fright entirely gone, Janice walked to his stall.  “Was my precious glad to get back?” she asked, patting him on the back as she went into the stall.  “Why, my poor dear!  Did they go to their supper without even taking his saddle off?  Well, he should—­ and his bridle, too, so that he could n’t eat his hay!  ’T was a shame, and—­” Once again, Janice uttered an exclamation of fright, as her fingers, moving blindly forward in search of the buckle, came in contact with some cloth, under which she felt a man’s arm.  Nor was her fright lessened, though she did not scream, when instantly her arm in turn was seized firmly.  The unknown peril is always the most terrifying.

“I did not want to frighten you, Miss Janice—­” began the interloper.

“Charles!” ejaculated the girl.  “I mean, Colonel Brereton.”