HER WINTER IN QUEBEC 
 
 ANNA CHAPIN RAY
 
 . F. 
 
 M6 80, BROADWAY, LO8 ANOELS*
 
 JANET: HER WINTER 
 IN QUEBEC
 
 " I'nder the electric light above their heads she could see the color rushing into 
 his cheeks." FROXTISIMKCK. .s>e pa ye 25<>.
 
 JANET: HER WINTER 
 IN QUEBEC 
 
 By 
 ANNA CHAPIN RAY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TEDDY: HER BOOK," "PHEBE: HER PROFESSION, 
 
 "NATHALIE'S CHCM," "BV THE GOOD SAINTE ANNE," 
 
 " HEARTS AND CREEDS," ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DRAWINGS BY 
 ALICE BARBER STEPHENS 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1906
 
 Copyright, 1906, 
 BY LITTLE, BKOWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 Published September, 1906 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Under the electric light above their heads 
 she could see the color rushing into his 
 cheeks " Frontispiece 
 
 " In spite of Janet's strictures, Rob did wipe 
 
 the dishes " Page 78 
 
 " Now that her chance was come, Janet seemed 
 
 loath to speak " "200 
 
 " Then she stepped forward to the trail " . . " 276 
 
 2229079
 
 Janet: 
 
 Her Winter in Quebec 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 FTER all, you know," Ronald Leslie ob- 
 served thoughtfully ; " it 's the very same 
 lesson I was trying to beat into another chap, all 
 last summer. " 
 
 Day unclasped her hands and, resting her elbow 
 on her knees, buried her chin in her cupped palms. 
 
 "Sauce for the goose, I suppose," she said 
 trenchantly; "and sauce for the gander." But 
 there was no levity in her tone. 
 
 Unthinkingly, Ronald copied her pose. He 
 was an abnormally tall young Canadian. She 
 was a thin slip of an American girl, just fifteen 
 years old and devoid of much beauty, save for a 
 pair of brown eyes that danced and dreamed by 
 turns. 
 
 "It 's not just the same thing, though," Ronald 
 pursued, as he sat with his eyes fixed on the bit 
 of blue river which rested against the background 
 of bluer hills. "That fellow he was an 
 American, too was knocked out by his health.
 
 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Mine " He fell silent, while the scarlet colour 
 rolled up across his cheeks and dyed the roots of 
 his hair. 
 
 The girl glanced swiftly at the band of black 
 which barred the sleeve of his gray coat. 
 
 "No," she said. "It's not the same thing 
 at all." 
 
 Stooping, Ronald picked up a bit of stone and 
 sent it flying through the air towards a distant 
 boulder. When the click of rock striking against 
 rock had cut across the silence, 
 
 "No," he echoed; "it's not the same thing, 
 and yet it conies to it in the end. We both of 
 us are kicking in harness. I was half through 
 McGill. I was sure of a place in the pater's 
 business, and " 
 
 Day's eyes were all dreamy now. She spoke 
 with the earnestness which came to her at times. 
 
 "And you were just ready to win your spurs, 
 when you were thrown to the ground." 
 
 He nodded. Then he adopted her metaphor. 
 
 " And it 's not too easy to get another mount. " 
 
 Undauntedly she faced him. 
 
 "Not easy; but you '11 do it." 
 
 "I wish I were sure of it." 
 
 "What difference, as long as I am?" she re- 
 torted. " When you do succeed, not one of your 
 friends will be gladder than 1."
 
 IN QUEBEC 
 
 "If you know ifc." 
 
 "But I shall. It may be before we go away; 
 there 's no telling how long we may have to stay 
 here. " Then silently she watched the cloud come 
 back into the eyes of her companion. " I am quite 
 rested," she said, as she rose. "Shall we go on ?" 
 
 "Yes. It is time we were moving." He rose 
 and stood towering above her in all his boyish 
 strength. " You must think I am a good deal of 
 a coward, Day. Still, 1 don't often flunk like this. " 
 
 Impulsively she held out her hand. Not in 
 vain had she watched him, during the past two 
 weeks. In this foreign country, her girlish intui- 
 tions were bound to fail her in many ways; but 
 not, she felt assured, in regard to Ronald Leslie. 
 
 "No matter," she said briefly. "It is part of 
 my creed never to tell tales." 
 
 And Ronald, as he followed her up the hill, 
 trusted her implicitly. 
 
 By the time they had scrambled to the top of 
 the steep, grassy slope, even Day's agility was on 
 the wane. Her step broke from Ronald's, lagged 
 a little and came to a halt Then she faced about 
 sharply. 
 
 "You are so endlessly tall," she said, laughing. 
 "Your elbow is just on a level with my shoulder, 
 and your step matches your height. Do stop and 
 inspect the view, while I get my breath. "
 
 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Obediently he too faced about. Nevertheless, 
 he mutinied. 
 
 "I have seen it all before." 
 
 Day had dropped to the turf at his feet, and was 
 fanning her scarlet face with her hat. 
 
 " No matter. I have n't, and you can look for 
 two. It is worth it, even if it 's not new to you. " 
 
 With a sudden sweep of her arm, she pointed 
 out across the foreground of low white buildings 
 which bound the camp of Saint Joseph, to the 
 distant purple gash where the Montmorency takes 
 its leap to the river below. In the midst of the 
 picture, the Isle of Orleans lay flaming in its 
 October colours, bordered on either hand by the 
 broad blue stripe of river. In the far back- 
 ground, the mountains rose in a wide semi- 
 circle, their sides changing back and forth from 
 dusky purple to vivid red, as the shadows of the 
 moving clouds gave place to dazzling sun. And 
 ever and anon on the strong north wind, there 
 came creeping up the slope to them a faint echo 
 of the mighty din and clangour of the hammers 
 which were beating ceaselessly in the graving 
 dock, so far below. 
 
 When Day spoke again, it was abruptly and out 
 of her own thoughts. 
 
 "Did you know that my brother was coming, 
 next week ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 
 
 Ronald's eyes widened to show their whites. 
 Then he curbed his wonder, if not his curiosity. 
 
 " I did n't know that " 
 
 Still abruptly, Day capped his sentence for 
 him. 
 
 " That I had a brother. Well, I have. " 
 
 To Ronald's mind, it was not wholly obvious 
 from the girl's tone what answer it was incum- 
 bent upon him to make. He took refuge in a 
 monosyllable. 
 
 "Oh," he said. However, even as he spoke, he 
 had an uncomfortable feeling that he had not 
 risen to the emergency. 
 
 Day's hands dropped from her hair, and she 
 looked up at her companion with merry eyes. 
 
 "Yes," she said, with a brevity which matched 
 his own. Then once more she fell to smoothing 
 her ruffled hair. 
 
 For a moment, Ronald eyed her despairingly. 
 This was by no means the first time that Day had 
 baffled his understanding. 
 
 " Well, what of it ? " he demanded, after a 
 pause. 
 
 Once more her hands dropped into her lap. She 
 clasped them with a demureness which was only 
 half genuine. 
 
 "Nothing; only I thought you would be in- 
 terested."
 
 6 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Regardless of the fact that Day's tailor was 
 such an artist as he could never aspire to employ, 
 Ronald huddled her jacket into the curve of his 
 left arm, and held out his right hand to the girl 
 at his feet. 
 
 "Come," he said. "That is, if you 're rested." 
 
 Without troubling herself to rise, Day looked 
 up into his face, took swift note of the spark in 
 the brown eyes, of the quiver of the short upper 
 lip. Then she smiled straight at his frowning 
 brows. 
 
 "Don't be cross, there 's a good boy," she ad- 
 monished him, with an accent half-teasing, half- 
 maternal. 
 
 In spite of himself, he laughed. 
 
 "Then don't torment the life out of a chap," 
 he responded, a little too fervently for her com- 
 plete comfort. 
 
 Her glance dropped back to the river. 
 
 " Do I torment you, Ronald ? " she asked 
 quietly. 
 
 "Rather!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 He was of English ancestry, and he cast about 
 in his mind for a fitting answer to her nonchalant 
 question. 
 
 "Oh, because Why, by being chums one 
 minute, and turning thorny the next."
 
 IN QUEBEC 
 
 She shook her head slowly. 
 
 "I suspect that's the American of me," she 
 answered, and a little sincere note crept into 
 the levity of her tone. " You '11 get used to it 
 in time." 
 
 "I'm not so sure." Ronald's tone was still 
 grave. 
 
 The laughter came back into her voice, the 
 light into her eyes. 
 
 " Then you 'd rather I stayed thorny, all the 
 time ? " she said interrogatively, as she scrambled 
 to her feet and shook her skirt free from the blos- 
 soms she had been pulling to pieces. 
 
 For a moment, he looked down at her steadily. 
 Then he asked, 
 
 " But why not stay the other thing ? " 
 
 She shook her head, in wayward opposition to 
 his mood. 
 
 "It would n't be me," she answered him. And 
 Ronald was too busy in weighing and admitting 
 the truth of her words to pay due heed to her calm 
 regardlessness of grammar. 
 
 Had the truth been told, Day's occasional re- 
 gardlessness of all things, from grammar to his 
 boyish feelings, had been one of the most inter- 
 esting facts of his recent experience. Unknown 
 to himself, Day Argyle was proving the best tonic 
 that Ronald Leslie could have had just then, and
 
 8 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Ronald Leslie's need of a tonic was greater than 
 anyone but himself had been able to realize. 
 
 For nineteen years, Ronald Leslie had strolled 
 along through life, his hands in his pockets, his 
 chin in the air. Quite as a matter of course, he 
 expected events to make way before him ; and, as 
 a rule, events justified his expectation. Then, of 
 a sudden, the change came. 
 
 Only the second night after his return from the 
 country and from the jolliest summer he had ever 
 spent, only two nights before he was to return to 
 Montreal for what he expected to be his gayest 
 year of college life, Ronald Leslie had been called 
 to the telephone. Two hours later, he had left 
 his mother and his sister Janet sobbing in each 
 other's arms and, going down to the library, he 
 had seated himself in his father's chair and faced 
 the future with dazed, but steady eyes. Four days 
 later, as he came out from under the trees of Mount 
 Hermon, the daze had left his eyes, but the steadi- 
 ness remained. Under the yellow leaves that 
 loitered as they fell, under the aged trees that had 
 seen so many dropping tears, Ronald Leslie had 
 left his father, resting from the professional 
 strain that had snapped a life in two. And 
 already Ronald had been told that his own time 
 for passive grieving was ended. It was for him 
 to stir himself and take active thought for the
 
 IN QUEBEC 9 
 
 morrow. From comparative luxury, he was 
 dropped into something dangerously akin to 
 poverty. 
 
 Two weeks later, Day had appeared. Even 
 now, he had scarcely come to realize the nature 
 of the chance which had brought this wide-awake, 
 tempestuous American girl into his Canadian home 
 and life. The Argyles were to spend the winter 
 in Quebec. Mrs. Argyle's cousin had married 
 Mrs. Leslie's sister-in-law. The rest of the chain 
 of circumstance had forged its links quite natu- 
 rally, down to the clasping of the two ends : Mrs. 
 Argyle's need for a boarding-place for her family 
 and Mrs. Leslie's equally imperative need for an 
 enlargement of her income. There had been 
 three Argyles, Day, her mother and her father, a 
 well-known railway magnate whose winter in 
 Canada was one of strenuous business which took 
 him much from his temporary home. In her own 
 city, Mrs. Argyle was accounted a woman of 
 rare poise and charm*, but, for Ronald, the situ- 
 ation had summed itself up in Day. 
 
 And yet, not even the fondest imagination could 
 stretch itself to the point of calling Day Argyle 
 charming. In person, she was not especially 
 pretty; in character, her innate sweetness was 
 often buried beneath a barrier of teasing thorns. 
 She liked Ronald absolutely; from the hour of
 
 10 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 their meeting, she showed a marked enjoyment 
 of his society, completely ignoring his sister, 
 when Ronald himself was in the room. Never- 
 theless, she treated his young ideals and his 
 young dignity without one whit of reverence, 
 mocked at him and teased him without cease, 
 and only showed him her gentler side when it 
 was plain to her that her mockery had gone too 
 far, or when his downcast face, bearing witness 
 to the anxiety he could not always down, touched 
 her girlish pity and bade her hold out to him a 
 helpful hand. 
 
 And Ronald accepted them all: mockery, teas- 
 ing and gentleness, in all their swift alterna- 
 tions, accepted them without seeking to analyze 
 his own enjoyment Truth to tell, this irrespon- 
 sible, merry girlhood was the best thing in the 
 world for the young fellow, heartsick as he was 
 with worry, and deadly weary with the routine of 
 the office where a place had been made for him. 
 The offer of the place had come to him on the day 
 following his father's burial. The gratitude of his 
 acceptance had been in no wise tempered by mis- 
 givings. In his eager, boylike optimism, he had 
 not paused to realize how little his idle, happy- 
 go-lucky youth had fitted him for the long, tedious 
 hours of business life. Even if he had realized it, 
 however, Ronald Leslie was not the one to flinch.
 
 IN QUEBEC 11 
 
 In future, his life was not for himself alone. It 
 concerned itself with his mother and with Janet 
 who was only fourteen and had her education all 
 hefore her. Ronald Leslie was wholly loyal to his 
 kin. Nevertheless, he was conscious that, coming 
 home after a long day in the office, it was good 
 to find his mother's tired face and Janet's black 
 frock relieved by the bright, blithe carelessness of 
 Day Argyle. 
 
 And now, two weeks after her coming into the 
 home, he had bespoken Day's company for his 
 Saturday half-holiday. He had asked Janet, 
 too; but Janet had shaken her head. She had 
 plans of her own; and as yet she and Day had 
 not come upon any firm ground of sympathy. 
 Day dismissed Janet without a thought. Janet 
 thought much about Day, and the summing up 
 of her thoughts had led to the belief that Day 
 was rather arrogant and wholly critical. And 
 Janet, albeit outwardly gentle, was not the girl 
 to submit herself patiently to arrogant criticism. 
 Rather than that, she would keep out of the way 
 of this American stranger who had invaded her 
 home and assailed her brother with no trace of 
 the admiring respect with which Janet had been 
 always wont to treat him. 
 
 And, meanwhile, Day and Ronald had crossed 
 a wide strip of open pasture, skirted the edge of
 
 12 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 a little lake and plunged into a belt of woodland 
 where the shadows rested heavily over the rough, 
 uneven turf. Less than half an hour later, they 
 were sitting in the shade of Fort Number One, 
 Ronald in an embrasure of the old gray wall, 
 Day mounted upon an insecure flight of steps by 
 which her companion had clambered to his present 
 position. 
 
 " You 'd much better come up, " Ronald urged 
 hospitably, as he swung his heels to and fro 
 against the masonry of his lofty perch. 
 
 " What 's the use ? You just said you could n't 
 get inside the fort, and I don't care to stop half- 
 way," Day made disdainful answer. 
 
 "But you can see these two guns. You 've only 
 to crawl in through this hole. It's quite easy," 
 he urged again. 
 
 Day sniffed in disapproval. 
 
 "Also quite dirty," she retorted. 
 
 Ronald made a vain endeavour to view the 
 small of his own back. 
 
 " Am 1 so dusty as all that ? " 
 
 "Not you. Dust doesn't stick to you. If I 
 were to go inside, though, I should be unlit for 
 mortal eyes. Besides, as I say, what 's the use ? 
 I heard you clattering at a door close by, so you 
 did n't go far. As for guns, I can see those on 
 the Ramparts at any time."
 
 77V QUEBEC 13 
 
 Ronald surveyed her in mock meditation. 
 
 "I did n't suppose an American 
 
 Long since, he had learned Day's trick of 
 capping his sentences for him. She did it 
 now. 
 
 "Stopped at anything. Well, they do." 
 
 " At ? " he observed suggestively. 
 
 "At making geese of themselves," she replied, 
 with sudden tartness. " I don't see the sense of 
 wasting my efforts by crawling into a hole that 
 goes nowhere. Nevertheless, I mean to see the 
 inside of this fort." 
 
 Laughing, he held out his hand. 
 
 "No, "she said, while, with a scramble and a 
 leap, she landed on the ground beside the totter- 
 ing old ladder which Ronald had dragged to the 
 foot of the wall below the embrasure. " I intend 
 to go inside. Meanwhile, I think I '11 upset 
 the ladder, so you can't run away while I am 
 exploring." 
 
 With a swift gesture, she suited the action to 
 the word. With another swift gesture, Ronald 
 turned about, hung for an instant by his hands, 
 then dropped into the ditch at her side. 
 
 "Whither now?" he queried calmly, as he 
 patted his hands together to free them from the 
 dust of his descent. 
 
 "To find a breach in the fortress," she answered
 
 14 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 briefly; but her eyes showed her appreciation of 
 his prompt reply to her challenge. 
 
 Twice they made circuit of the great stone fort, 
 once in the ditch where they paused again and 
 again to look down the muzzles of the old black 
 guns that faced them from the depths of the em- 
 brasures, once on the crest of the glacis where 
 they halted often to look out upon the noble view 
 of mountain and river which spread itself before 
 their eyes. As they ended their second circuit, 
 Day gave a little laugh. 
 
 "Stratagem failing, I mean to try force," she 
 said gayly, and, the next minute, she was running 
 along the bridge that crossed the narrow ditch. 
 
 Day had had many a surprise in the course of 
 her short life; none greater, however, than the 
 one which met her when she laid her hand on 
 the knob of a little door let into one of the 
 panels of the great gate which faced the end 
 of the bridge. The knob yielded to her touch, 
 turned, the door swung open and, a moment later, 
 American Day, camera in hand and Ronald at 
 her heels, stood inside the sacred British pre- 
 cincts of Port Number One. 
 
 For a second, a mysterious fear fell upon the 
 girl; the place was so big, so warlike, so de- 
 serted. A dozen khaki coats would have broken 
 the spell. The absolute desolation awed her and
 
 IN QUEBEC 15 
 
 made her afraid, and she turned to cast an appeal- 
 ing glance up at Ronald. The laugh on his lips 
 partially reassured her. 
 
 " You have wrecked the local tradition," he said 
 jovially. "It's the first time an American ever 
 broke into one of our forts." 
 
 At his voice, her buoyancy came back to her. 
 
 "The first; but not the last," she made crisp 
 response. 
 
 "Mayhap. In the meantime, how do you like 
 your new possession ? " 
 
 She glanced a little dubiously about the great 
 enclosure which lay between the earth-capped 
 wooden barracks and the gray stone wall. 
 
 "It looks rather lonely," she answered. 
 
 "All the better; else we might not be here. 
 Come, shall we explore ? " 
 
 Again her nervous fear came back upon her. 
 
 " Do do you think we 'd better ? " 
 
 " Surely. I was never here before ; I 'm not 
 likely to be here again. I certainly mean to 
 make the most of my chance." 
 
 " But if we were caught trespassing ? " 
 
 " I '11 slay the guard, while you make a dash for 
 the gate. " 
 
 Her face fell. 
 
 "Then there is a guard ? " 
 
 "Somewhere. Not here, though." Then he
 
 16 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 looked down at her a little intently. "Afraid ? " 
 he queried. 
 
 The colour came into her checks, and her 
 shoulders straightened. 
 
 "No," she fibbed. "Come on." And, chin in 
 air, she walked resolutely forward. 
 
 For a long half-hour, they wandered to and fro 
 and up and down, now climbing up the smooth 
 turf of the earthworks, now picking their way 
 along the loose boards and over the crumbling 
 plaster that littered the barrack floor, now creep- 
 ing carefully along dark passages which led to a 
 nowhere peopled only with slow-falling drops of 
 water that clicked against sunken rocks in the 
 heart of the thick blackness. Time-worn signs 
 pointed to distant magazines numbered in great 
 black letters. Tunnels led into the heart of the 
 fort, branched and lost themselves in other tunnels 
 which slowly led back to a faint gray reflection of 
 the outer day. And everywhere was the same 
 heavy stillness, broken only by the sound of their 
 own voices, by the echo of their footfall on the 
 ground. 
 
 . And then, of a sudden, Day started hack in 
 alarm, as Ronald threw open a little door in the 
 wall beside them. 
 
 " A man ! " she cried. " It 's a man ! " 
 
 And it was long before Ronald could coax her
 
 IN QUEBEC 17 
 
 to look in at the reflection of his own face, mir- 
 rored in the reflector of a lantern sunk in the wall. 
 She laughed at last ; but the laugh was unsteady, 
 for the solitude of the place was fast destroying 
 her level nerve. 
 
 She looked and laughed ; then she led the way 
 back to the sunshine outside. 
 
 "I think I 've had enough," she said, when once 
 more she stood under the blue October sky. 
 
 But the spirit of adventure had come upon 
 Ronald in his turn. 
 
 "Come," he begged her. "We 've not been to 
 this end yet. It looks jolly, and we 've plenty of 
 time." 
 
 She opened her lips to demur. Then, without a 
 word, she turned and crossed the grass at his side. 
 It was she who had started on the exploration. 
 It was not for her to beg off, leaving the explora- 
 tion half complete. Nevertheless, she looked long- 
 ingly backward at the sky, as Ronald led the way 
 into the great, arched vault of another passage. 
 
 It was the darkest tunnel they had found as yet, 
 the darkest and the most mysterious. For fifty 
 feet, it ran downward at a sharp angle; then it 
 turned to the left, completely shutting out every 
 beam of the pale gray light which came faintly 
 down from the opening. Slowly, carefully, Ron- 
 ald crept forward, his fingers sliding along the 
 
 2
 
 18 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 wall, his feet feeling every inch of the floor- 
 way. Slowly and with infinite, but unspoken 
 terrors, the girl crept after him, afraid to ad- 
 vance, still more afraid to be left behind. Then 
 abruptly she halted and stood as if rooted to tliu 
 ground. 
 
 "Listen! " she said faintly. "I hear voices." 
 
 Ronald halted in his turn. 
 
 "Ours ? " he said jovially. 
 
 "No. Others. Men talking." 
 
 Ronald laughed, wholly unconscious of her 
 fears. 
 
 "If they 're here, we '11 meet them. I fancy we 
 have them bottled up in this hole. " 
 
 " But it 's not here, " she urged. " It came from 
 the side, through the earth." 
 
 "The guard, most likely. Well, you've been 
 complaining of its being too lonesome. We '11 
 hunt him up, when we get out of this. Are you 
 ready ? " 
 
 For some reason for which she was wholly un- 
 able to account, the distant sound of voices had 
 multiplied Day's terrors tenfold. It seemed to 
 her to add vastly to the strange mystery of her 
 surroundings. The girl was no coward ; yet now 
 she longed acutely for the fresh air and sunshine, 
 longed even for the touch of Ronald's strong, warm 
 hand on her fingers Then she pulled herself
 
 IN QUEBEC 19 
 
 together. This was the first time that Ronald 
 had favoured her with an invitation of any sort. 
 She was not by any means minded to have it the 
 last. She steadied her voice with an effort. 
 
 " Go on, " she said undauntedly. "I '11 follow. " 
 And she heard Ronald move cautiously forward in 
 the darkness. 
 
 Only a moment afterward, she heard the clatter 
 of sliding rock, a short, sharp exclamation and 
 the thud of a falling body. The next instant, 
 she came to a sudden halt, with the tips of her 
 toes resting just over the edge of an unseen gash 
 in the flooring.
 
 20 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 IT seemed to Day that, for the space of hours, 
 she stood as if frozen to the earth, awaiting 
 in terror some sound from beneath which should 
 tell her the extent of the tragedy which had be- 
 fallen her companion. In reality, it was some- 
 thing less than forty-five seconds before she heard 
 Ronald speak. 
 
 "Hullo! " he said, and his voice had the meas- 
 ured accent of one who speaks into a telephone. 
 
 From force of habit, she adopted his tone, and 
 her accent also was the one generally directed into 
 a receiver. 
 
 "Hullo!" 
 
 "Is it Day? " he queried, for the telephone im- 
 pression was still upon him, and he was too much 
 astonished and shaken up by his fall to be able to 
 reason that, in all human probability, Day had 
 not been removed in the space of the last half- 
 minute and her place filled by a stranger. 
 
 "Yes, it's Day," she responded. "Are you 
 are you killed ? " 
 
 "No; only sloppy," he replied gravely.
 
 IN QUEBEC 21 
 
 Then, of a sudden, the ludicrousness of their 
 conversation flashed upon them, and Ronald's 
 chuckle was answered by a half-hysterical gasp 
 from Day. 
 
 " Where are you ? " she asked, at length. 
 
 " Somewhere in the bowels of the earth. " 
 
 Vainly she strove to peer into the blackness at 
 her feet. 
 
 "How far?" 
 
 "About ten feet." 
 
 "Ten feet! " Her fears came back to her and, 
 this time, they were quite concrete. "Are you 
 badly hurt?" 
 
 " Only my clothes, and a bump on my brow, " he 
 replied composedly. " I landed on my nose in six 
 inches of clay." 
 
 Day gasped again. 
 
 " Oh, Ronald, don't be so funny ! I was so 
 frightened ; I thought you were dead, and it 's 
 awful to laugh," she besought him. 
 
 " Soft clay, too, " he added. " I 'm picking it 
 out of my eyebrows now." 
 
 "Come up and let me see," she begged him. 
 "I know you must be hurt." 
 
 His laugh reassured her ; but not his words. 
 
 " You are asking impossible things," he objected. 
 "I can't come up, and you could n't see me, if I 
 did."
 
 22 ./.LY A"/'.- HER WINTER 
 
 " Why not ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Chiefly because this hole has n't any edges to 
 climb, and because it is pitch dark where you 
 are." His tone was imperturbable. 
 
 She caught at the first phrase. 
 
 " Not any edges ! Then how can you get out ? " 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 She ransacked the corners of her mind for an 
 idea. 
 
 " Can't I let down something ? " she suggested 
 at length, with a passing recollection of certain 
 books in which her brother's soul, years before, 
 had been wont to delight. 
 
 " For instance ? " he queried, as casually as if 
 he had been strolling at her side on the terrace. 
 
 "Something to climb out on. Something to 
 eat." Her voice was fainter again. 
 
 The next instant, the vault echoed with Ronald's 
 laugh. 
 
 "By Jove, Day," he said, as soon as he could 
 speak; "do you think I am going to spend my 
 days in this clay -pit ? " 
 
 " But if you can't get out ? " 
 
 " Then it 's for you to go after somebody to get 
 me out," he retorted practically. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Anywhere, so long as it 's handy. What 
 about your voices ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 23 
 
 But Day was deaf to his reply. Smothering 
 the shame that already had assailed her at the 
 thought of the way she had lost her head, she 
 had turned and scrambled away along the dark, 
 arched tunnel, in search of light and air and 
 help. 
 
 Quite unexpectedly, she found the three await- 
 ing her together. Her step steadied and grew 
 swifter, as she came in sight of the gray circle 
 of light at the far end of the passage, and she 
 dashed through it and out into the dazzling sun- 
 shine at a pace which narrowly escaped demolish- 
 ing a solitary figure who stood facing the opening 
 in the earth. The figure dodged perceptibly, and 
 his hanging under jaw drooped even lower, as his 
 eyes rested on this unexpected vision, bursting out 
 upon him from the deep places of the earth. He 
 faltered. Then he put up his eyeglass. 
 
 "Oh, by George! " he ejaculated. 
 
 Day pulled herself up abruptly and looked at 
 him. During the scant two weeks she had lived 
 on British soil, she had not yet come in contact 
 with the newly-imported Englishman. Now that 
 at last she beheld him, in place of reverence, he 
 inspired her mirth. The stiff hat pushed back to 
 show the straight and spiky hair, the wide eyes, 
 the broad black string of the eyeglass, the deeply 
 wrinkled face and the expression of vacant as-
 
 24 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 tonishment: all these details went to make up 
 a whole which taxed to the utmost the girl's 
 powers of self-control. Even in the instant of 
 her first glance, she sent a mental apology to 
 the actors whom she had accused of exaggerat- 
 ing the type of stage Englishman. Then ab- 
 ruptly she recalled her manners, recalled, too, 
 the suddenness of her exit from the hole. Small 
 wonder that the -stranger had dodged at sight of 
 the unexpected apparition ! 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said decorously. 
 
 "I Oh ah don't mention it, " the stran- 
 ger responded, with bland haste. Then, turning, 
 he made off across the open stretch of turf lead- 
 ing to the gate. 
 
 Day looked after him in sudden desperation. It 
 seemed to her that, with his turning away, her 
 only help of succour was departing from her. 
 Oddly enough, she took no heed of the fact that 
 this taciturn stranger was scarcely the person to 
 be soliloquizing to himself in the bowels of the 
 earth and at the extreme top of his lungs. 
 
 "Wait!" she called after him, and her voice 
 was half-pleading, half-imperious. 
 
 At her call, he stayed his step and looked over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "I can't," he made accentless, yet emphatic 
 answer, in the widest of London vowels.
 
 IN QUEBEC 25 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I must catch my train." 
 
 "Your train!" Day's jaw dropped, as she 
 turned from his inexpressive face to the equally 
 inexpressive landscape, as if to discover a loco- 
 motive waiting in some inconspicuous corner of 
 the enclosure. 
 
 " Yes, my train. I am going to New York. " 
 
 " To New York ? " Again a dash punctuated 
 her phrase. 
 
 "Yes. That's what I came out for." The 
 announcement, still abnormally broad as to its 
 vowels, was totally lacking in accent. 
 
 "But Day felt as if her brain were reel- 
 ing. The stranger's composure, coupled with his 
 obvious haste, his strange speech and more strange 
 assertion, all this, following hard upon the fright 
 of a few moments before, made the girl half doubt 
 her own identity. For the identity of the stranger 
 she made no effort to account. 
 
 "Certainly," he iterated. "That is what I 
 came out for." 
 
 
 
 Then, for one moment, Day bethought herself 
 of certain scenes from Alice in Wonderland. The 
 stranger's repartee appeared to be of the same 
 sort. 
 
 " But the New York train does n't start from 
 here."
 
 26 JANET: HER 
 
 " Oh, no ; I know it. " 
 
 "Then what in the world did you come out here 
 for ? " she demanded, forgetting Ronald entirely 
 in the new problem which faced her. 
 
 "I came out to go to New York," the stranger 
 reiterated. "Later, I may spend the winter in 
 Quebec; that is, if I can keep from being cold." 
 He paused and peered at the girl near-si ghtedly, 
 while he fell to fumbling about in his pockets. 
 " Here is my card," he added. 
 
 Day glanced at the card which he held out to 
 her. Sir George Porteous, London, it read. 
 
 "Thank you," she said hurriedly. "It's all 
 right; I am glad to meet you. It's your help 
 I want now, not your card, though." 
 
 He looked up at her rather distrustfully. This 
 decided young child with the pretty clothes was a 
 new species to him, new, too, the sort of girl who 
 would disdain the bit of pasteboard he was offer- 
 ing her. He shook his head slightly, and sought 
 his eyeglass. 
 
 But Day spoke again, this time with some 
 impatience. 
 
 " We 're wasting time. Do hurry! " 
 
 " Where ? " he asked languidly. 
 
 With a swift, free gesture, she pointed to the 
 passage behind her. 
 
 " Into that hole ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 27 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh, 1 could n't. " The last word was spread 
 broadly over two separate syllables. 
 
 "You must." 
 
 "I should lose my train," he protested. "Be- 
 sides, I should lose my way." 
 
 Day felt her temper going fast. It rendered her 
 next words rather incomprehensible. 
 
 "No matter. You must help get Ronald out." 
 
 A faint spark of interest began to manifest itself 
 in Sir George's dull eyes. 
 
 " Out ? " he echoed. 
 
 Day stamped her foot on the ground. It was 
 rude; but at least it served to help her to keep 
 her tongue in check. 
 
 " Yes, out. He 's in there, and you must help 
 him." 
 
 Sir George Porteous bent upon her a searching 
 glance. 
 
 " Why does n't he walk out on his feet ? " he 
 queried suddenly. 
 
 "He can't." 
 
 "Oh." 
 
 "He's fallen into a hole," Day explained. 
 " We were exploring, and the floor ended, and he 
 did n't know it and fell in. And now he can't get 
 out without a man to help him." 
 
 With the spasmodic deliberation which charac-
 
 28 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 terized his movements, Sir George Porteous felt 
 for his glass and screwed the glass into his eye. 
 Then he gave a long look into Day's flushed 
 face. 
 
 " Oh. A chap inside that hole ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And in another hole inside ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 For a long moment, Sir George contemplated 
 both the girl and the situation. Then he spoke. 
 
 " How rummy ! " he observed impartially, and 
 then once more he turned away. 
 
 " Wait! " Day said again. 
 
 "Oh, but I must go." His fingers shut upon 
 his fob. "It is time for my train." 
 
 " But you would n't leave Ronald in there ! " she 
 exclaimed, now thoroughly alarmed by his evident 
 intention of abandoning her companion to his 
 fate. 
 
 "I must." Then, of a sudden, he made a 
 vague gesture towards the far end of the bar- 
 racks. "There 's a care-taker in there. I tipped 
 him, and he took me about. I fancy he 's got 
 some sort of a rope, you know. I I hope 
 you'll get the poor chap out." And, the gate 
 reached, Sir George Porteous opened the panel 
 and clambered through, catching his toe slightly, 
 as he made his undignified exit Then he dis-
 
 77V QUEBEC 29 
 
 appeared from view, and Day, looking after him, 
 gave tongue to her thoughts. 
 
 " What a dunce ! " she said aloud. " But how 
 do you suppose he ever strayed up here ? " Then 
 with all haste, she went in search of the care-taker 
 and his rope; and it was not until half an hour 
 later, as she was going down the hill with Ronald 
 that she yielded to the absolute humour of the 
 situation. 
 
 And Janet, meanwhile, seated on a stool beside 
 the kitchen range, was busy beating eggs. 
 
 The Leslies lived on Saint Louis Street, and 
 their large old house, by rights, should have 
 had three maids to keep it in order. As a 
 matter of fact, it had had four, until the change 
 had come. Then Mrs. Leslie, faced by the alter- 
 natives of moving into a smaller house or of taking 
 a larger share of the housework into her own hands, 
 had chosen the latter course. Father and grand- 
 father and great-grandfather had lived within those 
 gray stone walls where, too, all her married life 
 had been spent Another house would be barren 
 of all association with the past. Better than that, 
 a share in the work, no matter how hard. Ac- 
 cordingly, she had dismissed three of the maids, 
 and had enlarged her household by three new 
 members. And, quite as a matter of course, a 
 part of the work overflowed upon Janet.
 
 30 JANET: HER WINTKli 
 
 And Janet took it bravely. It was not without 
 reason that her brown eyes were resolute, her chin 
 steady. For the rest, she was past fourteen, a 
 dark, thin little maiden whose eager face was 
 only just beginning to show signs of the beauty 
 which the next few years would bring. In 
 temper, she was outwardly placid; but only up 
 to a certain point. That point passed, the fires 
 beneath blazed up into flame. The two clauses 
 of her girlish creed were loving loyalty to her 
 mother, and utter adoration for her older brother. 
 For the sake of those two people and their happi- 
 ness, Janet would accept all things and make no 
 complaint. 
 
 Most girls, however, would have been less stoi- 
 cal than Janet, more ready to feel that their lives 
 held just cause for complaint. From a care-free, 
 servant-filled childhood, a childhood where pretty 
 frocks abounded and where every Thursday after- 
 noon held its especial treat, Janet suddenly found 
 herself promoted to a girlhood where the talk con- 
 cerned itself with needless expenses, where her 
 new black frock must do duty for two winters, 
 where Thursday treats gave place to Thursday 
 toil, since the day which aforetime had been 
 half-holiday in the convent, was now the day 
 when their one servant took her afternoon out 
 and relegated to the mistress the task of get-
 
 IN QUEBEC 31 
 
 ting tea and dinner. It was much nicer to come 
 in, starved, for tea and bread and butter beside 
 the parlour fire than it was to spread the bread 
 and butter and carry in the heavy tray. And, 
 besides, there was Day. 
 
 Janet Leslie was a girl, and entirely human. 
 Being that, she could not fail to be irritated by 
 Day Argyle. It was not alone the pretty clothes 
 which, even in the Leslies' best days, would have 
 been unthinkable to Janet; it was not alone Day's 
 freedom from all care, her bright, blithe irrespon- 
 sibility ; it was not alone the little air of uncon- 
 scious patronage which crept into Day's manner 
 now and then. It was no one of these; but it 
 was made up from all three, and it was com- 
 pleted by the fashion in which Day apparently 
 sought to monopolize the thoughts of Ronald. 
 All that past summer, Janet had sat by and 
 watched Ronald's growing friendship with an- 
 other American girl, watched it without a spark 
 of jealousy. But Day was different. 
 
 " Save the bowl, Janet!" 
 
 The girl's face cleared at the laughing admo- 
 nition. 
 
 "It wasn't just the eggs," she answered. "I 
 was beating " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "Things. Oh, mummy, I do wish you didn't
 
 32 JANET: HER W1NTEU 
 
 have to work so hard," she burst out sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Crossing the room, Mrs. Leslie rested her hands 
 on the slim shoulders. 
 
 " Work does n't hurt people, dearie. It is only 
 worry that hurts; and that, thanks to my good 
 children, is growing less, every day." 
 
 For her reply, Janet nestled her head backward 
 against her mother's body. A long minute, they 
 rested there together. Then, with a little, cud- 
 dling gesture, Mrs. Leslie caressed the brown 
 head and, letting go, crossed the room to a 
 chair. Janet eyed her dubiously. 
 
 " But there is a worry, mummy. I can see it in 
 the edge of your eyes, " she urged. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie laughed. 
 
 " Only in the very edge, then. It 's not a real 
 worry, Janet; only a question." 
 
 Janet pounded her eggs with renewed vigour. 
 
 " Well, what does Day want now ? " she de- 
 manded at length. 
 
 "Day? Nothing." 
 
 "She generally does. Last time, it was pink 
 soap to match her toilet things. Time before, 
 it was half my closet, because her own was n't 
 large enough to hold her best clothes." 
 
 "You don't like Day?" 
 
 " No. " The answer came flatly.
 
 IN QUEBEC 33 
 
 "I am sorry. I do." 
 
 "You're welcome to her," Janet observed, 
 above the clatter of the egg-beater. "I don't 
 like Americans." 
 
 Her mother smiled. 
 
 " What about Sidney ? " she asked. 
 
 " Sidney was n't like any other American girl 
 I ever knew," Janet responded with perfect truth- 
 fulness, inasmuch as Sidney Stayre, the past sum- 
 mer, was only the second American girl with whom 
 she had ever come in contact. Then she relented. 
 "Day is well enough, mummy, only we don't get 
 on together. That is all, truthfully. We don't 
 fight at all. But what is the question ? " 
 
 For the space of a moment, Mrs. Leslie paused 
 to ponder on the innate antagonism between the 
 two young girls. Then she roused herself to an- 
 swer Janet's query. 
 
 " Let me take the eggs, Janet. They are done, 
 I know. The question is how to stretch the house 
 to hold one more person. " 
 
 Janet, half-way across the kitchen floor, halted 
 to stare at her mother in consternation. 
 
 "Mummy! Who now ?" 
 
 "Another Argyle. Robert, I think his name 
 is." 
 
 " Who is he ? " 
 
 "Day's brother."
 
 34 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "I didn't know she had one," Janet said 
 blankly, as she put the bowl into her mother's 
 hands. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie, lifting the frothy eggs and watch- 
 ing them drip back into the bowl, was silent. 
 Janet urged her words upon her mother's lag- 
 ging attention. 
 
 " Did you know Day had a brother ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " How queer ! " 
 
 And Janet, having summed up the matter to 
 her own satisfaction, perched herself on the table 
 at her mother's side. Then she renewed her 
 catechism. 
 
 " Where is he coming from ? " 
 
 "New York." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Week after next." 
 
 "To stay ?" 
 
 "Yes, if it suits him." 
 
 "I hope it won't," Janet made swift comment. 
 " But where will he stay ? " 
 
 "Here." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 "I don't know yet Possibly in Ronald's 
 room. " 
 
 "Where could Ronald go ? " 
 
 " Up to the top flat. "
 
 IN QUEBEC 35 
 
 Janet shook her head. 
 
 "He can't, mummy. It would be the finish of 
 him, after all his hard day in the office, if he had 
 to give up his room. Let the new one go." 
 
 "He would n't like it, dear." 
 
 " Let him lump it, then ! " Janet said grace- 
 lessly. " Ronald must n't be turned out. " Then, 
 as she saw the shadow come into her mother's 
 eyes, "No matter," she added; "I'll go, myself, 
 mummy. I 'd just as soon, and my room is next 
 to Day's, so they can be together." 
 
 " But, Janet " 
 
 "Truly, I don't mind. I've always liked to 
 be high up, and that room gets all the sun. I '11 
 move, to-morrow. But, really, don't you think 
 it 's funny we never heard of him ? How old 
 is he ? " 
 
 "A little older than Day." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " Janet dropped her chin on her 
 fists. "I do hope he isn't quite so cranky." 
 
 But Mrs. Leslie looked up from the bowl in her 
 hands. 
 
 "Day isn't cranky, dear. She is only " 
 
 " An American, "Janet said, with sudden vicious- 
 ness, as she slid down from the edge of the table. 
 But she stopped beside her mother's chair and 
 threw her arms around Mrs. Leslie's neck. " Never 
 mind, mummy," she said philosophically. "At
 
 36 JANI'.T: HER WINTER 
 
 least, he will keep Day busy, so we sha'n't be 
 troubled with either of them." And, bending 
 down to kiss her mother, she went away out of 
 the room, humming to herself in determined dis- 
 regard of the American invasion of her home. As 
 a rule, Janet Leslie was resolved to make the best 
 of things, even of the present prospect of another 
 Argyle. For the once, however, the gift of proph- 
 ecy was denied to her; and it was with grim fore- 
 bodings that she looked forward to the weeks to 
 come.
 
 IN QUEBEC 37 
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 " TANET! " There was a rising inflection on 
 
 J the call. 
 
 " Yes. " The answer came faintly from the top 
 of the house. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " 
 
 "Settling down." 
 
 " Possessions, or feelings ? " Ronald queried 
 composedly, from his seat on the stairs below. 
 
 " Hush ! " Janet came to the door of her room 
 and looked down over the stairway rail. " Both, 
 of course; but don't mention it indiscreetly at the 
 top of your voice. " 
 
 "1 am safe;, the coast is clear. But what a 
 beastly shame for you to go aloft! " 
 
 "No shame at all," Janet protested stoutly. 
 "I love the room; it is only such a tiresome 
 thing, the putting my clothes away." 
 
 "Shall I help?" he offered, though without 
 troubling himself to stir. 
 
 She laughed down into his merry dark eyes. 
 
 " You ! " she said scornfully.
 
 38 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Well, why not ? At least, I 'd be quicker than 
 you." 
 
 "But there 's no hurry," she answered. "I 've 
 all the week to move. The new youth won't coine 
 till Saturday." 
 
 " For which be thanked ! " Ronald observed de- 
 voutly. "Look here, Janet, do you think he will 
 be any addition to the family party ? " 
 
 Swiftly she held up a warning finger. 
 
 "No; they've gone out," Ronald repeated. 
 "Still, the walls have ears, and I suppose it 
 is n't wise to imperil the family butcher bill. 
 What did you say you were doing ? " 
 
 "Moving, to make room for the nabob," Janet 
 answered, and, for the life of her, she could not 
 keep an edge of bitterness from her voice. 
 
 Ronald rose and stretched himself. 
 
 "Let it go, and come out for a turn on the 
 terrace," he suggested. 
 
 " I 'd rather - " Janet demurred ; then, as she 
 looked down at the tired lines about her brother's 
 lips, she relented. "1 '11 be ready, in a few min- 
 utes," she said. 
 
 " Good child ! Put on something warm, though. 
 I '11 go and tell the mater we are starting." And 
 Ronald vanished by way of the drawing-room door. 
 
 He found his mother seated by the table in the 
 library, darning his socks ; and the pitiless glare
 
 IN QUEBEC 39 
 
 of the electric lamp by her side showed him the 
 two deep wrinkles which the past month had cut 
 into her face. With a sudden protecting ges- 
 ture, he flung his arm across her shoulder, as he 
 seated himself on the arm of her chair; but he 
 only said, 
 
 "Janet doesn't appear to fancy the idea of the 
 new Argyle. " 
 
 "Not really. I suppose it is because she and 
 Day can't seem to hit it off," Mrs. Leslie said 
 slowly. " How does the idea strike you, Ronald ? " 
 
 "As if it were in the bargain, and we could n't 
 get out of it," he answered whimsically. "Hav- 
 ing let in three Argyles, we can't well stand out 
 on a fourth." 
 
 " And, after all, he may be " 
 
 "He probably is," Ronald interrupted placidly. 
 "My only fear is he is too much so." 
 
 The eyes of mother and son met, and they both 
 laughed. 
 
 "I'm sorry, dear boy," Mrs. Leslie said then. 
 "I don't mind it; but it is a bit hard on you and 
 Janet, now that you have to count your pennies 
 and your postage stamps, to be thrown in this 
 close connection with a girl like Day who never 
 counts the cost of anything." 
 
 Ronald shook his head. 
 
 ' There are a few others," he suggested. " None
 
 40 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 of our friends arc exactly frugal. It is only that 
 they haven't the same trick of throwing their 
 money at one." 
 
 "I know," his mother assented. "I am sorry. 
 I wish it were n't necessary. " 
 
 But Ronald rose and squared his shoulders. 
 
 "It is necessary, though, and a mighty good 
 thing for us that they like the place and can 
 afford to pay for it," he replied, as he crossed 
 to the fire-place. "It comes high, this boarding 
 with Quebec's elect. I only hope they appreciate 
 the advantages they are getting for their money." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie laughed. 
 
 " I suspect they don't. " 
 
 Ronald faced her sharply. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because Mrs. Argyle has asked me to serve 
 her tea in her own room." 
 
 "Oh I" Ronald's cadence was a falling one. 
 "So she needn't meet the friends of her land- 
 lady ? " 
 
 " I suppose so. " 
 
 And then Ronald laughed, laughed with a boy- 
 ish, big-bodied appreciation of the joke. Mrs. 
 Leslie, in her recent mourning, was not receiv- 
 ing just then. Nevertheless, her drawing-room 
 was a meeting-ground for the many old friends 
 who could not afford to miss her out of their
 
 IN QUEBEC 41 
 
 busy lives. And, moreover, these friends were 
 not of a class to hold out eager hands to stranger 
 Americans. The quaint little old city has a trick 
 of refusing to open her social doors to foreign 
 gold. 
 
 "Let her," he said tersely at length. "And 
 yet, do you know, I am sorry for Day." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie threaded her needle. Then she 
 looked up. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say it, Ronald. Day is 
 a good girl." 
 
 "And a bright one," Ronald added. "I wish 
 she and Janet would take to each other." 
 
 "Give them time," his mother suggested. 
 " Girls are slow to get acquainted, and they 
 have only known each other for three weeks." 
 
 " But in the same house. And, besides " 
 Ronald hesitated. 
 
 From over her work, his mother looked up at 
 him keenly. 
 
 "Well, son?" 
 
 He frowned intently at the cuff on the arm 
 which rested against the mantel. 
 
 " I 'm not sure that I blame Janet, either, " he 
 said slowly. "I like Day, myself; I like to have 
 her about. She is good fun, and she knows how 
 to take chaff without losing her temper. But with 
 Janet " He abandoned his cuff and faced his
 
 42 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 mother directly. "Has it ever seemed to you that 
 Day was a little top-loftical with Janet ? " 
 
 His mother nodded. 
 
 " Yes. And you have noticed it, too ? " 
 
 "Noticed it, and hated it," Ronald answered 
 briefly. "I can't understand it, either." 
 
 "I can," Mrs. Leslie said. 
 
 " What ? " The question came sharply. 
 
 " That Day regards Janet as merely the child of 
 her landlady." Mrs. Leslie's tone, instead of bit- 
 terness, held only quiet amusement. 
 
 Ronald spun about on his heel. 
 
 "What rot I " he said sharply. 
 
 "No; not altogether," his mother demurred. 
 "The fact is, she is right. The Argyles came 
 here, strangers, to board with us. There is no need 
 for them to consider themselves as our friends." 
 
 "Mercifully not," Ronald assented. 
 
 "But you said you liked Day," his mother re- 
 minded him. 
 
 "So I do. She is bright and pretty and good 
 fun to have in the house. Still, if she is going to 
 be hateful to Janet, I won't have anything to do 
 with her." 
 
 "Janet can take care of herself," that young 
 person observed from the doorway. "You need n't 
 worry about me, brother. There are other girls 
 besides Day Argyle."
 
 IN QUEBEC 43 
 
 "I know that," Ronald said a little moodily. 
 " Still, there are n't many who might be better 
 fun to know. I hate, though, this liking people 
 with mental reservations. Day is a good, all- 
 round sort of girl, if only she would treat you a 
 little better." 
 
 Janet's chin rose in the air. 
 
 " I did n't know it was a question of how she 
 treated me," she said conclusively. 
 
 Ronald laughed, as he never failed to do, when 
 Janet took that tone. 
 
 " Come down off your high horse, before it balks 
 and spills you," he admonished his sister. "We 
 all of us know that Day is n't too polite to you. 
 Moreover, we none of us know why I haven't 
 come in for a share of the same manners." 
 
 But Janet smiled mockingly. 
 
 "Look in your glass," she advised him, from 
 the arm of her mother's chair where she had 
 perched herself. 
 
 It was still early, so early that the Basilica 
 bells were clashing across the evening air, when 
 the two young Leslies stepped out into the street. 
 The stars glittered frostily above them, and low 
 over the Saint Louis Gate hung the thread-like 
 crescent of a baby moon. Nine times, Janet made 
 grave obeisance to the moon; then she turned 
 and caught her hand through her brother's arm.
 
 44 JANET; HER WINTER 
 
 "Money in your pocket, Ronald?" she queried 
 
 By way of answer, he drew out a copper penny, 
 waved it before her eyes and then returned it to 
 his pocket, clanking it ostentatiously against its 
 fellows. 
 
 "Safe for this month, Janet," he reassured her 
 then. " That 's where we fellows score. You 
 girls haven't any pockets." 
 
 "At least, then, we don't have to worry about 
 our pockets being empty," she retorted. "Oh, 
 what a night! Let's run!" 
 
 With a laugh, Ronald brought his sister to a 
 standstill beneath one of the electric lights. 
 
 "What a romp you are, Janet!" he said, in 
 mock rebuke. 
 
 " Why not ? " she returned undauntedly. " I '11 
 race you up the terrace and back, and beat you, 
 too." 
 
 "Don't be too sure," he cautioned her. 
 
 "You'll do it?" she queried eagerly for, of 
 late, Ronald had been slow about sharing in 
 her childish pranks. 
 
 " Sure. That is, unless there are people about. " 
 
 "Come, then," she urged. "Jf we hurry, we 
 can get there before anybody else is out. It 's 
 cold, and I feel funny, and I want to run fast, 
 fast."
 
 IN QUEBEC 45 
 
 "You'd better save your breath," he advised 
 her. Nevertheless, he yielded to her repeated 
 tuggings at his elbow and, side by side, they 
 faced about and directed their steps towards the 
 terrace. Only once on the way Janet spoke. 
 
 " If Sidney were only here ! " she said. 
 
 And Ronald made regretful answer, 
 
 "But she is n't." 
 
 At the corner of the Ring, they met the Argyles. 
 Day, walking slightly ahead of her parents, was 
 the first to see them. She hailed Ronald eagerly. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 "Just up to the terrace." 
 
 "Lovely! I '11 go with you." 
 
 Notwithstanding Janet's furtive pinches on his 
 arm, Ronald made prompt answer, as he was in 
 duty bound to do. 
 
 " That 's good. We were longing for exercise, 
 and missed you when we came out" Then, hat 
 in hand, he faced Mrs. Argyle. "You'll trust 
 Day to our care, I hope," he added. 
 
 Mrs. Argyle's face, at rest, was a bit cold. It 
 lighted now, however, as it never failed to do 
 when her eyes rested upon Ronald Leslie's face. 
 
 "I always know that Day is safe, when she is 
 in your hands," she said cordially. "Don't stay 
 too late, Day, and don't take cold." 
 
 "I like that boy," she added to her husband,
 
 46 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 as they went on their way. "He is manly and 
 well-bred, and abnormally handsome. Mrs. Leslie, 
 too, is n't like the usual type of boarding-house 
 keepers." 
 
 "But it's not a boarding-house," her husband 
 objected. " And, you know, John said " 
 
 "John!" Mrs. Argyle's tone was expressive. 
 " He always has a pensioner or two on his hands, 
 and I stopped listening to his pitiful tales, years 
 and years ago. Still, I must confess that we 
 were fortunate to get into such a charming old 
 house. " 
 
 " What about Rob ? " Mr. Argyle asked, for he 
 had but just returned from a week in Montreal. 
 " Did she object to taking him ? " 
 
 "At first, she said she couldn't; but I finally 
 argued her into it. He is to have Janet's room." 
 
 " What becomes of Janet ? " her husband asked 
 practically. 
 
 " She goes upstairs, somewhere or other. These 
 old houses seem to have endless room in them. 
 Still, you must admit that it was a good thing 
 that I never had happened to speak of Rob's 
 coming." Mrs. Argyle laughed lightly. "It was 
 the merest chance that I hadn't; but his plans 
 were so uncertain that I thought I 'd best wait. 
 If she had heard of him in the first of it, I am 
 sure she would never have taken any of us in;
 
 IN QUEBEC 47 
 
 and I am too comfortable there, to be willing to 
 move." 
 
 "And Rob comes ? " Mr. Argyle said interroga- 
 tively. 
 
 " Saturday noon. " 
 
 "I am glad. If only he is better! " 
 
 And, meanwhile, up on the deserted terrace, 
 Day had been voicing the same wish. 
 
 " Not heard of Rob ? " she said. " How strange ! " 
 
 Ronald laughed. 
 
 "That is what we have been thinking," he said 
 frankly. 
 
 " But I supposed my mother had told you he was 
 coming." 
 
 " Why did n't you ? " Janet asked, with crisp 
 pertinence, from her place at Ronald's other 
 side. 
 
 " I ? Why, really, I don't know. Because girls 
 don't talk much about their brothers, I suppose." 
 
 "But I do," Janet returned a little shortly. 
 
 Day laughed good-naturedly. Her content- 
 ment, pacing the vast sweep of boards in time 
 to Ronald's rhythmic tread, was too complete to 
 be easily ruffled. 
 
 "So I have observed," she assented. "In 
 America, we usually leave our boys to speak for 
 themselves." 
 
 She was quite without intention of bitterness.
 
 48 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Nevertheless, Ronald interposed, for he was quick 
 to feel the undernote of antagonism between the 
 two girls, and liking Day and adoring Janet, he 
 was anxious to have them friends. 
 
 " And so you have brought your American man- 
 ners into Canada ? " he queried. 
 
 " Why not ? Besides, I have an idea that Rob 
 would prefer not to have me discuss him." 
 
 " Because ? " Ronald inquired. 
 
 However, Janet broke in with a question. 
 
 "Then you 've known, all the time, that he was 
 coining ? " 
 
 " We were n't sure he 'd be able. " 
 
 " How do you mean ? " Janet obviously was 
 resolved to push her investigations to a satisfac- 
 tory finale. 
 
 "Whether the doctor would let him come." 
 
 "Why not? Is he delicate ?" Janet de- 
 manded, with the sudden appetite of girlhood 
 for a languid hero. 
 
 Day's laugh cut the air with a mirth which in- 
 fected Ronald, although he had not the least idea 
 what was the cause of her merriment. 
 
 "Rob delicate! " she echoed, when she could 
 speak. "You should see him." 
 
 "Then what does he have a doctor for ? " 
 
 Day sobered suddenly. 
 
 "His leg. He was half through Exeter and
 
 IN QUEBEC 49 
 
 making a splendid record, just in the thick of 
 everything. He was so big they put him on 
 the football team, and he was awfully hurt in 
 one of the scrimmages. They say he saved 
 the game, though," she added, with obvious 
 pride. 
 
 " Poor chap ! That 's lean satisfaction, " Ronald 
 made grave comment. 
 
 Day smiled, partly in her content with her 
 brother's prowess, partly in amusement at Ron- 
 ald's colonial viewpoint. 
 
 "You'd better not say that to Rob," she ad- 
 vised him. 
 
 But Janet still pursued her investigations. 
 
 " What did it do to him ? " she asked. 
 
 "Nobody seems quite sure. It did something 
 to the tendons, they think. It happened just a 
 year ago ; and, ever since, he has been under the 
 care of the best man in New York. He has had 
 to stay right in the city, all summer long, and 
 take all manner of treatments and things. We 
 supposed he would have to be there, all winter; 
 but, last week, he wrote that the doctor said he 
 might come up here for a while. Mother is 
 worried to death. She does n't know whether 
 it means he is better, or whether the doctor has 
 given up the case." 
 
 " Why does n't she ask him ? " 
 
 4
 
 50 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Rob, or the doctor ? " 
 
 " Your brother. " 
 
 And Day made unhesitating answer, 
 
 "Because it would n't do any good. Rob never 
 would tell, if he were n't better." 
 
 And Ronald again made comment, 
 
 "Poor chap!" 
 
 Day laughed. 
 
 "You 'd best not say that to him," she advised 
 again. " Rob hates being pitied. " 
 
 "A fellow can't help being sorry, though," 
 Ronald said bluntly. "How much does it knock 
 him out ? " 
 
 "He's out of school, of course; and he can't 
 play football, nor dance, nor walk much at 
 least, he could n't, when I saw him. He may 
 have gained since then, though." 
 
 " How long since you have seen him ? " 
 
 "Not since the first week in June. We came 
 here straight from the country, you know." 
 
 "Day Argyle!" 
 
 Ronald felt the explosion coming; but not 
 even his warning pressure on Janet's arm could 
 suppress it. * 
 
 " Well, what of it ? " Day queried unconcern- 
 edly, while she changed the position of one of 
 the pins in her hat. 
 
 "Nothing," Janet said shortly. "Only, if he
 
 IN QUEBEC 51 
 
 were my brother, I would n't go off to the country 
 for six months, without seeing him." 
 
 "But it wasn't so long," Day corrected her. 
 " It is n't five months yet. Besides, what good 
 would I do ? Of course, my father saw him, every 
 few days, and my mother went down to the city 
 for a week, before we came up here. She had to 
 get clothes and things, and then she wanted to 
 see Rob for herself." 
 
 "Naturally." Then Janet's mouth shut with a 
 snap. 
 
 To her own surprise, Day felt a sudden need to 
 justify herself. 
 
 " I 'd have gone, if Rob had wanted me, or if I 
 could have done him any good," she said, with the 
 slow gravity which, to Ronald's mind, marked her 
 sweetest moods. " I love Rob ; he 's a darling and 
 I think he is fond of me, but we generally go our 
 own ways. He is all boy, does n't care for girls 
 nor girl things, only to criticise my clothes, when 
 they don't suit him." 
 
 "Oh," Janet said shrewdly. "I begin to see. 
 You fight." 
 
 Day hesitated. Then, instead of being irritated 
 by Janet's persistence, she spoke frankly and with 
 a little tone of sadness. 
 
 "No," she said thoughtfully. "Sometimes, I 
 wish we did; it would bring us closer together.
 
 52 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 When we were children, I 've heard mother tell, 
 we used to squabble, one minute, and love each 
 other to distraction, the next. Then mother 
 went abroad, and took me, and Rob went away 
 to school. That lasted for two years, and, since 
 I came home, we have never been together much, 
 nor seemed to be able to get at each other. I am 
 fond of him; but I 'm afraid of him. He does n't 
 seem to me like my own brother really, but more 
 like a visitor, when he comes home. We are n't 
 nearly as much related as you two are. And then, 
 most of this last year, he 's been in hospital or his 
 room, and I 've been in school, all day long. And 
 so " Abruptly she stopped her earnest speak- 
 ing, stopped it to hide the little break which so 
 rarely came into her gay young voice. 
 
 In utter silence, they walked the length of the 
 terrace. When Day spoke again, it was with a 
 laugh; but the laugh was plainly forced. 
 
 " I really don't see why I have told you all this 
 stuff," she said apologetically. 
 
 Swiftly Janet stepped to her side, linked her 
 arm in the arm of Day and gave it a little 
 squeeze. 
 
 "Because you knew we 'd be sorry and like to 
 help," she said rather incoherently, but with a 
 tone she had never used to Day until that hour.
 
 IN QUEBEC 53 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 HALL you wish breakfast at Dudswell 
 Junction ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "But I must telegraph for it, over night." 
 
 "But really I can't tell till I see it." 
 
 The Pullman conductor, whose broad shoulders 
 and level eyes betrayed the fact that he had worn 
 the Queen's uniform, looked down at his passenger 
 with some amusement. Was it for the defence 
 of the rights of such an one as this that he had 
 offered himself to Mauser bullets ? Then stead- 
 fastly he forced the amusement out of his eyes. 
 
 "I must ask you to decide, before you go to 
 bed." 
 
 "But I 'm not going to bed," was the surprising 
 answer. 
 
 " Not going to bed ? " 
 
 "Oh, no. I may lie down for a bit; but I 
 really sha'n't undress at all." 
 
 From his place across the aisle, a boy looked up 
 from his magazine. He too was big and blond
 
 54 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and straight of shoulder and of eye. Unlike the 
 conductor, however, he saw no need to repress the 
 mirth which assailed him at the detailed utter- 
 ances of his British neighbour. 
 
 All the way from New York, Rob Argyle had 
 been gloating over the unconscious humour of that 
 neighbour, over his accent, his clothing, over his 
 wonderful amount of hand luggage. Rob, carry- 
 ing a suitcase and leaning rather heavily on the 
 stick in his hand, had sought the Pullman ticket 
 office in the Grand Central Station at New York. 
 To his obvious impatience, his pathway had been 
 blocked by a heap of luggage, a porter and a 
 diminutive Englishman with an utterance which 
 seemed to be chiefly composed of the letter A, and 
 that at the widest possible span. 
 
 "Oh ; but really I can't," he was remonstrating. 
 
 "Change at Springfield," the clerk reiterated 
 mechanically. 
 
 " Get out of one car and get into another ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But I can't." 
 
 The clerk tapped on the desk before him. 
 
 "There is no through train." 
 
 "Oh; but there should be." 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 The Englishman's face lighted with sudden 
 hope.
 
 IN QUEBEC 55 
 
 "You mean there possibly will be ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And I must change out of one car into another 
 just like it ? " 
 
 Patiently the clerk set himself to explain. 
 
 " You can have a drawing-room car to Spring- 
 field. There you will get the Quebec sleeper." 
 
 " Oh. And what will I do with it, when I do 
 get it ? " 
 
 Not even ten years of answering wholly inane 
 questions could blunt the clerk's appreciation of 
 this one. Nevertheless, his tone was dry, as he 
 said tersely, 
 
 " Move in. " 
 
 " Yes. But who will carry my luggage ? " 
 
 And the clerk made unfeeling answer, 
 
 "Lug it, yourself." Then he turned to meet 
 Rob's eye. " To Springfield ? Yes. And a 
 berth reserved to Quebec? Yes. Very well." 
 
 But once more the Englishman spoke. 
 
 "Oh, I say, will you please be so good as to 
 reserve me a berth, too ? " 
 
 " What name ? " 
 
 The Englishman dived into his pockets for a 
 card; but the card eluded his gloved fingers. 
 
 " What name ? " the clerk iterated unfeelingly. 
 " You 'd better hurry. It is time for your 
 train."
 
 56 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 His hat wildly askew and his glass screwed into 
 his right eye, the Englishman faced back to the 
 window. 
 
 "Porteous," he said. "Sir George Portcous. " 
 Then, at the heels of the porter, he followed Roh 
 out to the train. 
 
 It was with feelings of unmixed satisfaction 
 that Rob saw the conductor leading Sir George 
 Porteous to the chair next his own. Rob's 
 humour was always ready for new sources of 
 mirth; his two-minute study of the Englishman 
 convinced him that here would be an unfailing 
 source. Then, of a sudden, his satisfaction gave 
 place to gloomy foreboding. The conductor car- 
 ried a suitcase; Sir George Porteous was followed 
 by the porter from his hotel, bearing two bags and 
 a steamer-rug; and the hotel porter was followed 
 in his turn by the porter of the car, and the porter 
 of the car carried an overcoat, a raincoat, a rifle- 
 case and a vast, unwieldy budget cased in tartan 
 drilling and bound up with a shawlstrap. And Rob 
 had a suitcase of his own, and, moreover, his lame 
 leg demanded plenty of room on this, its first jour- 
 ney. The doctor had warned him to be careful, 
 and Rob's own recent experience of plaster band- 
 ages had added force to the warning. With his un- 
 injured leg, he gave a surreptitious kick at the 
 tartan-covered budget which threatened to topple
 
 77V QUEBEC 57 
 
 over on his knees. Then he barricaded himself 
 with his suitcase and his stick, and prepared to 
 enjoy himself as best he might. 
 
 Had the truth been told, Rob Argyle was in a 
 position where his salvation lay in his sense of 
 humour, in its happy trick of extracting fun from 
 the most commonplace of situations. Otherwise, 
 Rob's existence would have been rather a bore, 
 just then. For two entirely happy years, his 
 school life had centered in making a good enough 
 record in his classes to balance his increasing 
 prowess in athletics. Already he was captain of 
 his crew and quarterback on his football team; 
 already, though college was still two years off, his 
 dreams were pointing towards a 'varsity football 
 team of the future, when, with a sudden snap, his 
 dream was shattered and he awoke. His cap on 
 the back of his head, and the brown pigskin cud- 
 dled into the curve of his arm, he had marched 
 away to the field, on the day of the Andover 
 game, determined to make a record, or die in 
 the attempt. He came near achieving both ends 
 in the same hour. As he went down in the heart 
 of a scrimmage, even before things grew black 
 about him, his ears were humming with the 
 sound of many voices shrieking his name in 
 frantic chorus. 
 
 As a matter of course, he did not die. He was
 
 58 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 pulled out from the bottom layer of a heap of 
 kicking, squirming boys, carried off the field 
 and given the rough and ready care that goes 
 with such events. That night, he went to the 
 football supper, hilarious as ever, although he 
 confessed to a dozen bruises and a queer feeling 
 in his leg. It was not until a week later that the 
 authorities of the school succeeded in convincing 
 him that it was time he started for home and a 
 specialist. 
 
 Since the night, eleven months before, when the 
 cab had deposited him at his own front steps, Rob 
 Argyle had been gritting his teeth and training 
 himself to live upon the memory of his past 
 prowess. He had been plucky and, for the most 
 part, good-tempered. Nevertheless, in looking 
 backward, he was forced to admit to himself 
 that the time had dragged heavily. There had 
 been five months of hospital and of a daily treat- 
 ment which had been a pain to the flesh and a 
 bore to the soul; there had been three months 
 in his room, with the doctor dropping in at odd 
 hours and performing strange tricks with a knee 
 which declined to bend; there had been three 
 more months in a boarding-house, after the last 
 of his family had migrated to the country. Rob 
 had urged their going away. He hated do- 
 mestic coddling with a furious and holy hatred.
 
 IN QUEBEC 59 
 
 To his present point of view, it mattered little 
 to Rob that the doctor, after long months of in- 
 decision, had hinted that, with proper care, he 
 might have a well leg in time. Time was finite, 
 when it was a question of college athletics; and 
 the deliberations of a specialist, as Rob had 
 learned to his cost, were infinite. He sought to 
 beguile the hours by reading treatises on football 
 or rowing, and the many stories in which sports 
 play an important part. He usually ended by 
 throwing the books on the floor, with an un- 
 worded regret that, in place of the floor, he 
 could not substitute the writer's head. What 
 was the use of books to a fellow who knew all 
 about it, far more than did the writers, and 
 was, all at once and for no obvious reason, cut 
 out of the game ? Moreover, Rob had always 
 been prone to regard books as a means to an 
 end. Plainly and without wasted words, his 
 father had told him, at the end of his first 
 month in Exeter, that he could keep on with 
 athletics only just so long as his standing in his 
 classes gave satisfaction to the school and family 
 powers. Like most healthy boys, Rob took his 
 Greek as a pill, and sugar-coated it with sports. 
 
 And now ? Forgetting his British neighbour, 
 he crossed his hands at the back of his head and 
 stared out at the acres of brown salt marshland.
 
 60 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Football was not, nor yet rowing. Possibly they 
 never again would be. His lip curled scornfully 
 at a momentary picture of himself, dawdling over 
 interminable golf links and pottering about after 
 a two-inch ball. And, as yet, even that was 
 beyond him. What could he do ? Whistling 
 softly, he considered the situation. 
 
 Slowly and with care, he could walk about the 
 house, and even for short distances outside. He 
 could not dance, so what was the use of going to 
 parties, even suppose he was lucky enough to be 
 invited to any, in this strange city where his 
 winter was to be spent. Then he checked him- 
 self abruptly. After all, he was getting back to 
 the things he could not do ; and it was much more 
 in keeping with his ideas to count the things he 
 could. At least, he was out of hospital, and able 
 to get about again. And, as his mind went back 
 to that cheering crowd which had witnessed his 
 downfall, he confessed to himself that it all had 
 been worth the while almost. 
 
 Besides, there was Day. Strangely enough, 
 this would be the first winter for years that the 
 brother and sister had spent in the same house. 
 Europe and school and finally the hospital had 
 come in between. As a child, Rob had adored 
 his little sister. In fact, it was he who had 
 given her her name, substituting it for the prim
 
 IN QUEBEC 61 
 
 Aurora which, in company with a mammoth silver 
 urn, she had inherited from an ancient aunt. In 
 their youngest days, they had squabbled and made 
 up without cease, finding their worst punishment 
 in the separation which followed on the heels of 
 their more vigorous quarrels. Together they had 
 devised and executed many a prank, had invented 
 games without number and, best of all, cuddled 
 together on the old sofa in the upstairs hall, they 
 had exchanged confidences and dreamed dreams 
 of a future when Rob should be a famous poet, 
 or else a locomotive engineer, and Day should 
 cook griddlecakes for his supper, when he came 
 home, tired, at night. And then Europe had 
 swallowed Day, and brought the end of it all. 
 
 Since then, they had gone their different ways. 
 Really, it was surprising how little they had seen 
 of each other, least of all during that last winter 
 when Rob's hospital and Day's young gayeties had 
 raised a double barrier against their united inter- 
 ests. It was surprising, too, how little Rob re- 
 gretted the fact, how little he missed Day out of 
 his life. In reality, when he thought of his sister 
 at all, it was as the curly-headed child who used 
 to snuggle against his shoulder, not as the dainty, 
 unruffled maiden in the gray fur coat and the fluffy 
 feathers, the maiden who came, now and then, to 
 sit down by his narrow bed and say polite things
 
 62 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 about being sorry. And yet, underneath all the 
 oppression of the fluffy finery and all the polite- 
 ness, Rob Argyle held firmly to the notion that 
 Day would be a good comrade, if one only knew 
 how to get acquainted with her. Perhaps his 
 chance was coming now. 
 
 Only the dropping sun, carving a golden trail 
 across the brown sea marshes, saw the sudden 
 gentling of Rob's keen blue eyes. For himself, 
 Rob hated coddling. Nevertheless, on one of 
 his holidays spent in the home of his chum, he 
 had seen a younger sister perch herself on the 
 chum's knee and twist his hair, while she talked 
 nonsense into his ears. It had looked good fun, 
 and Rob had felt strangely out of it. He remem- 
 bered it now with a slight pang. Day, in her gray 
 fur coat, would have been such a good little bundle 
 to hold, if only she had perched herself on the 
 edge of the bed, in reach of his strong young 
 arms. But quite likely she had never thought 
 of it. Impatiently he moved his chair to get 
 the dazzle out of his eyes, and the sun, striking 
 across his forehead, turned his hair from yellow 
 to a tawny red. 
 
 He had had one letter from Day, since she had 
 reached Quebec. It had smelled of violets, and 
 its wax was violet, too. It had been full of her 
 young enthusiasm over her new surroundings, full
 
 IN QUEBEC 63 
 
 of her walks and drives, full, also, of one Ronald 
 Leslie who appeared to be holding a place far in 
 the foreground of her daily life. There was a 
 sister, somewhere in the background. She called 
 herself Janet, and his mother had mentioned her 
 once or twice. She and Ronald were unknown 
 quantities, two of them. As the dusk fell into 
 darkness, Rob found himself wondering how the 
 equation would work itself out. 
 
 Two hours later, as the Quebec sleeper slid 
 northward, Rob was forgetting all such self- 
 seeking, while, over the top of his magazine, 
 he watched his British neighbour. They had 
 the car quite to themselves, and Rob's satisfac- 
 tion had come back upon him in full measure, 
 when he had seen the Englishman squirm his 
 way into a luggage-heaped section diagonally 
 across the aisle. Ten minutes later, there had 
 been a tussle of wills between the Englishman 
 and the conductor. The porter, passing through 
 the car, had fallen headlong over some unseen 
 obstacle, and the conductor had been forced to 
 explain at great length that passengers were not 
 expected to spread out their dressing-cases, open, 
 in the aisle. 
 
 "But I must have a drink," Sir George ex- 
 plained in his turn, with seeming irrelevance. 
 
 "Well, why not?"
 
 64 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Sir George leaned back in his seat 
 
 "I can't get a drink, you know, without a cup," 
 he reminded his adversary. 
 
 " There 's a glass at the end of the car. " 
 
 Sir George shook his head. 
 
 "Really, I could n't drink out of that," he said 
 fixedly. 
 
 "As you will." The answering tone was crisp. 
 "Still, you must keep your things in your own 
 section." 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 "You must." 
 
 With an air of infinite leisure, Sir George took 
 a small silver mug from his open case, rose and 
 vanished in the direction of the water tank. As 
 he rounded the corner, the conductor deftly picked 
 up the case, perched it on top of the tartan budget, 
 and went in search of the porter. Two minutes 
 later, Sir George came back, walking with the 
 unsteady pace of one whose sea-legs are not yet 
 adapted to land journeyings, and bearing in his 
 hand the filled cup. Deliberately he seated him- 
 self, deliberately quaffed his cup, deliberately 
 turned to face Rob, screwing, the while, his 
 glass in his off eye for the sake of getting a 
 better view of his solitary travelling companion. 
 
 "Fellow seems a bit arbitrary, you know," he 
 observed sententiously.
 
 IN QUEBEC 65 
 
 Then, turning back again, he rose and departed 
 to empty the dregs from his mug. 
 
 Still later, and while the white-coated porter 
 was busy with the berths, Rob cast aside his 
 magazine and annexed the conductor. 
 
 " What 's the exhibit, across the aisle ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 "Plain freak." 
 
 " And going ? " Rob queried. 
 
 "To Quebec." 
 
 Rob stretched out his lame leg on the opposite 
 seat and made a gesture of invitation. 
 
 " Sit down ; that is, unless you are busy. Are 
 there many like him up there ? " 
 
 "Not so many. It 's a city where one gets all 
 sorts; but this is a rare one." 
 
 " You know the place well ? " Rob inquired. 
 
 "Rather." 
 
 "Is it " Rob cast about in his mind for a 
 comprehensive question. " Is it bad in winter ? " 
 
 "Not if you don't mind cold. The sports are 
 good." 
 
 " What, for instance ? " 
 
 "Hockey, skiing, sliding, snowshoes. " 
 
 But Rob shook his head. 
 
 " All up for me. I 'm just out of hospital." 
 
 " Beg pardon. I remember noticing " 
 
 "That I walked like a sawhorse ? " Rob in- 
 5
 
 66 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 quired composedly. "There's no need to Leg 
 my pardon, though. It 's not pretty ; but there 's 
 no especial disgrace about it." 
 
 " What happened ?" 
 
 "Football. I went down in a scrimmage, last 
 year. " 
 
 " A whole year ? What a beastly bore ! " 
 
 Rob looked up to meet the honest eyes which 
 somehow matched the voice. 
 
 " Was n't it ? But you sound as if you knew 
 something about it, yourself." 
 
 "I was in South Africa, and had a bullet in 
 my leg. It was n't fun." 
 
 Rob gave him a sidelong glance, half-whimsical, 
 half-sympathetic. 
 
 " Not much. However, it has its compensations 
 when one thinks of the cause. Anyway, you 
 came out of it well." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 Rob shook his head. Then he laughed. 
 
 "Perhaps," he said. "Give me time." 
 
 And then the porter came to make his berth. 
 
 Sir George Porteous did take breakfast at Duds- 
 well, the next morning; and, over the table, he 
 and Rob kept up a random and desultory fire of 
 talk. When Rob, fresh and starchy as if from 
 his own tub at home, had made his morning ap- 
 pearing, he had been met by a wild flapping of the
 
 IN QUEBEC 67 
 
 opposite curtains. The flapping, aimless and furi- 
 ous, had been followed by the thrusting forth of 
 one shirt-sleeved arm which waved in air for 
 an instant, as if to preserve the balance of some 
 unstable body hidden behind the dark green 
 draperies, then withdrew itself again into the 
 unseen regions behind the curtains. A moment 
 later, there protruded the head of Sir George 
 Porteous, tousled, wild-eyed, the hair erect, the 
 mouth ajar. With the utter absence of expression 
 which sometimes accompanies violent physical 
 exertion, the gaze of Sir George Porteous trav- 
 elled slowly down the car, while the lower portions 
 of the curtains agitated themselves crazily. Then, 
 of a sudden, in the course of its travels the glance 
 rested upon Rob, sleek, smiling and peacefully im- 
 maculate from the topmost lock of his yellow hair 
 to the shoe-lace of his lame foot. The head with- 
 drew itself hastily. Then, 
 
 " Oh, by George ! " came, muffled, but distinct, 
 from the folds of the curtains. 
 
 Nevertheless, Sir George was promptly on the 
 platform, as the train drew up at the door of the 
 breakfast-room. To be sure, his cuffs were not, 
 nor yet his eyeglass, and a huge safety pin, pro- 
 duced from the depths of his inexhaustible dress- 
 ing-case, held the edges of his collar from rolling 
 back to display his lack of certain of the more
 
 68 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 essential forms of haberdashery. With an un- 
 wonted haste which owed its origin to repeated 
 warnings from the porter, he stepped down from 
 the car and started for the breakfast-room door. 
 Then deliberately he turned back to Rob who, by 
 means of the conductor and his stick, was making 
 a toilsome progress down the steps. 
 
 " Oh, I say, can't I give you a hand somehow ? " 
 he asked. " It 's so tiresome, you know, not to 
 get about." And, suiting his step to Rob's, he 
 crossed the platform at his side.
 
 IN QUEBEC 69 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 ROB opened the door of his room and applied 
 his eye to the crack. 
 
 " What in thunder is the row ? " he asked. 
 
 Ronald Leslie, rushing down the stairs from the 
 third story, stayed his steps at the question. 
 
 "Row enough. Girl gone, and my mother ill 
 in bed." 
 
 " Seriously ? " Rob's accent changed. His one 
 week in the house had taught him to have a hearty 
 liking for Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " No ; only a nervous headache. She has them 
 now and then. Usually they only last a day ; but 
 they knock her out completely, while they do 
 last." 
 
 " Then you 're not worried about her ? " 
 
 "Not half so much as I am about the breakfast. 
 That brute of a girl took French leave, last night." 
 
 "Hang the breakfast! " Rob advised him. 
 
 " That 's all right for you ; but your mother and 
 Day would sing a different song. " 
 
 "Go cook it, then."
 
 70 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "That's what I called Janet for," Ronald ex- 
 plained. "I have made up the fire, and she will 
 he down in a minute. Breakfast won't be very 
 late." 
 
 " No matter if it is. Can Janet cook ? " 
 
 "I suppose so, after a fashion. Most girls can. 
 You won't starve. There she comes now," Ronald 
 added, with a sigh of relief, as Janet, whose un- 
 varying neatness had not failed her in the crisis 
 of a five-minute toliet, appeared at the top of the 
 stairs. 
 
 With a suddenness which reminded himself of 
 Sir George Porteous, Rob withdrew his head from 
 the crack until her light steps had passed his door. 
 Then, hearing no sound of Ronald's departure, he 
 opened the door again. True enough, he found 
 Ronald still outside. 
 
 " Well ? " Rob said questioningly. 
 
 "Well." Ronald's tone showed that his relief 
 was permanent. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " 
 
 "Getting my breath after my exertions." 
 
 " And your sister ? " 
 
 " Getting breakfast " 
 
 " Why don't you go down and help her ? " 
 
 "Me? I can't cook." 
 
 Through the crack, Rob eyed the tall Canadian 
 with sudden scorn.
 
 IN QUEBEC 71 
 
 " What a futile sort of fellow you are ! " he com- 
 mented. "No matter. I'll go, myself." And, 
 before Ronald could make reply, the closing of 
 the door was followed by sounds of splashing and 
 spluttering, and, later, by hurried, uneven steps 
 and by the soft beat of brushes. When the door 
 opened again, the hall was empty. Ronald, in 
 something dangerously akin to injured dignity, 
 had betaken himself to his own room to add the 
 last touches to his uncompleted toilet. 
 
 Janet, meanwhile, had set the table and deluged 
 the stove in her hurried filling of the coffee-pot. 
 Then, frowning intently, she gave her whole mind 
 to the task of fitting a large steak to a small grid- 
 iron, without leaving a two-inch frill of meat to 
 dangle about over the coals. She made an at- 
 tractive picture, as she bent above the table, her 
 sleeves turned back from her round, brown wrists 
 and her hair, ruffled with the heat and with her 
 haste, standing out in a brown aureole around her 
 intent young face. She started up into abrupt 
 self-consciousness, however, as Rob came hurry- 
 ing and hobbling into the room. 
 
 "Good morning, Biddy!" he hailed her from 
 the threshold. "Your brother said you were in 
 hot water, this morning, and I came down to help 
 cook." 
 
 Janet stared at him in amazement. Not
 
 72 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 even Ronald's whole-hearted devotion would 
 have brought him to the rescue in such a crisis 
 as this. Like most of his fellow countrymen, 
 Ronald Leslie had in his own mind a well- 
 established line between masculine and feminine 
 duties, and, no matter how good might have been 
 his intentions, it would never have occurred to 
 him that it was possible for him to cross that line. 
 Still less, however, would it have occurred to Janet. 
 
 " You help cook ? " she echoed blankly. 
 
 " Yes. Why not ? Here, you give me that, 
 while you do the toast." And Rob, laying hold 
 of the gridiron, with a few deft touches packed 
 the surrounding frill into its proper place. 
 
 " But do you know how ? " Janet's tone was 
 still a little dubious. 
 
 " Sure. I camped out, all summer before last, 
 and none of the other fellows could cook so much 
 as a plate of porridge and have it fit to eat," Rob 
 explained, with obvious pride. Then he seized a 
 stove-handle and laid bare a bed of glowing coals. 
 "Oh, I say, this is fine I You can make toast at 
 that end. I want this." 
 
 And, before Janet could quite grasp the situa- 
 tion, she and Rob Argyle, the stranger whose 
 coming she had so dreaded and feared, were 
 cozily bending down, side by side, over the blaz- 
 ing fire in the kitchen range.
 
 IN QUEBEC 73 
 
 Janet had been spending the day at Cap Rouge, 
 when Rob reached Quebec. Ronald had fetched 
 her home so late in the evening that she had had 
 only a momentary glimpse of the new member of 
 the household. That glimpse, however, had been 
 enough to send Janet to bed in a mood where ad- 
 miration and awe struggled vainly together for 
 mastery. The day which had followed, and the 
 week which had followed that, had done little to 
 decide that mastery. Janet had been busy with 
 her school and with her light household duties; 
 Rob had been wholly engrossed with settling him- 
 self into his new quarters. As consequence, the 
 two had scarcely met, save at mealtimes and when, 
 now arid then of an evening, they were brought 
 together by way of Ronald and Day. Neverthe- 
 less, as the time went on, Janet's admiration kept 
 pace with her awe. 
 
 In all truth, few girls could have kept from ad- 
 miring Rob Argyle. He was so honest and alert 
 and off-hand, so strong and hearty in spite of his 
 lame leg, so good to look at and so jovial to talk 
 and to be talked to that Janet, now and then, had 
 found herself dangerously near to putting him on 
 a pedestal in the secret places of her girlish mind. 
 She liked him in all sorts of ways ; but she was 
 unfeignedly afraid of him and for no obvious 
 cause. And no one in the world would have been
 
 74 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 more filled with mirth at the thought of arousing 
 Janet's fears than would Rob Argyle himself. 
 
 The reasons of Janet's fears were complex and 
 mingled. Chief among them lay Rob's stick 
 which so rarely left his side. The spirit of 
 motherhood, born in all girls, was strongly in- 
 trenched in Janet Leslie's character. Her inde- 
 pendent manner, her firm little chin and the 
 resolute poise of her head: all these were the 
 mask of a hidden gentleness which made her 
 swift to take in the contrast between Rob Ar- 
 gyle's buoyant pluckiness and the heavy drag of 
 his foot as he moved about the house. His stout 
 brown stick held a curious fascination for her; it 
 seemed to stand for so much that she longed to 
 say to him, yet dared not put into words. In a 
 sense, it set him apart from the other boys she had 
 known. He bore the difference lightly; yet she 
 felt sure they both were conscious of it, when they 
 were together. It rendered her shy and monosyl- 
 labic. She watched him from under her lashes, 
 and talked to him almost as little as did Ronald 
 who had frankly declared to her his inability to 
 get on with this easy-going youth to whom reser- 
 vations were not and who appeared to think that 
 friends would be his for the asking. 
 
 As a general rule, friends had been Rob's for 
 the asking. In the happy-go-lucky life of a large
 
 IN QUEBEC 75 
 
 preparatory school, he had owed his popularity far 
 more to his personality than to his paternal for- 
 tune. Grown up among other jovial, outspoken 
 fellows, he had learned the trick of meeting all 
 strangers with a smile and an outstretched hand. 
 For the first time in his life, since he had come 
 to Quebec, he had learned what it was to have 
 his smile ignored, his open hand disregarded. 
 On Janet's side, this was due to shyness; on 
 Ronald's part, to the chilly English inability to 
 make friends at sight. And Rob was shrewd to 
 read the causes. In consequence, he put on his 
 sunniest smile to coax Janet from her shell; but, 
 after the second day, he treated Janet's tall brother 
 with a breezy sort of contempt which was as new 
 to Ronald as it was wholly undeserved. 
 
 That morning had been their nearest approach 
 to cordial relations. Ronald, up betimes to look 
 at the furnace which had come under his care, 
 had made early discovery of the empty kitchen. 
 With his heart near his heels, he had gone to 
 acquaint his mother with the fact of the servant's 
 departure. Her faint voice, muffled and forlorn, 
 answering to his knock, had sent his heart still 
 lower. He knew the voice, knew the day of soli- 
 tary suffering which it portended. Mumbling an 
 excuse which he fondly hoped would reassure his 
 mother, he turned away and tramped up the next
 
 76 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 flight of stairs in search of Janet. Janet's ill- 
 concealed consternation had completed his dis- 
 comfiture. It had been a relief when Rob, 
 aroused by the unwonted stir in the house, had 
 opened his door to inquire its cause. Ronald 
 pitied Janet acutely. Nevertheless, he had left 
 her to cope with the breakfast, while he retired 
 to his room to smooth his hair and his feelings 
 which had been ruffled by Rob's attitude of criti- 
 cism. Ronald Leslie was not critical of others. 
 He preferred to receive as little criticism as he 
 gave. Rob's words had gone on his temper and 
 turned it slightly on edge. 
 
 Day's lips had parted in surprise, when she 
 entered the dining-room, thart morning, to find 
 Janet seated behind the coffee-pot, while Rob, 
 crocky and hilarious, limped into the room with 
 the platter in his hands. 
 
 " What has happened ? " she demanded. 
 
 Rob set down the platter with a flourish. Then, 
 before Janet could speak, 
 
 "Merely a new butler," he replied coolly. 
 
 Day raised her brows, as she looked at the cuffs 
 of her brother, usually so immaculate in all of his 
 belongings. 
 
 " Do you generally go into the coal cellar, when 
 you buttle ? " she queried saucily; but there was 
 a slight flavour of criticism in her tone.
 
 IN QUEBEC 77 
 
 Laughing, he dropped into his place on the 
 opposite side of the table. 
 
 " No ; only in seasons of famine. Janet and I 
 have been getting breakfast. " 
 
 " You ? And Janet ? " The words made two 
 distinct questions. 
 
 " Yes. We have gone into partnership. " Rob 
 nodded across at Janet who was blushing above 
 the cups. " We are predicting a great success for 
 ourselves, too," he added, as Ronald drew Mrs. 
 Argyle's chair back from the table. 
 
 "Mamma," Day turned to her mother almost 
 petulantly; "do ask these people what has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "Ronald told me. Mrs. Leslie is ill, and the 
 maid has gone. What are you going to do about 
 it, Janet ? " she asked kindly, for she could not 
 fail to admire the girlish energy with which Janet 
 had thrown herself into the breach. 
 
 And Janet made plucky answer, 
 
 "Eat breakfast, and then wash the dishes." 
 
 " With my help, " Rob interpolated. 
 
 " In which ? " she asked gayly, for the memory 
 of their frolic over the fire, still uppermost in her 
 mind, had destroyed her fear, for the time being. 
 
 "Both, of course. We eat. You wash. I 
 wipe," he replied tersely, as he attacked his 
 steak and buttered toast
 
 78 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 But Janet shook her head. 
 
 "You 'd break them," she made enigmatic an- 
 swer; but she laughed up into his blue eyes, as 
 she gave him his cup of coffee. 
 
 Nevertheless and in spite of Janet's strictures, 
 Rob did wipe the dishes. Day came into the 
 china closet and found him at Janet's elbow, girt 
 in a gingham pinafore and with a long brown 
 towel in his hands. 
 
 "The cab is here, Rob," she said, from the 
 threshold. 
 
 "What cab?" 
 
 "Yours. You were going out for a drive." 
 
 " Hang the cab ! " Rob made cheery answer, as 
 he polished a cup with a zeal which threatened to 
 wreck its handle. 
 
 "But it is here," Day reiterated. "Mother is 
 going, too." 
 
 "Let her go three, if she wants," Rob said 
 blandly. "I'm busy." 
 
 "I know. Only " 
 
 For a moment, Rob looked benignly down at his 
 sister, as if the difference in their ages had been 
 measured by years, not moons. 
 
 "Go with her, Day, and let me out of it, 
 there's a dear little soul," he urged, and, as 
 he spoke, some sudden impulse made him rest 
 his hand on her shoulder.
 
 1 In spite of Janet's strictures, Rob did wipe the dishes." Page 78.
 
 IN QUEBEC 79 
 
 Hastily she drew out of his reach. 
 
 "Oh, Rob, that greasy dishwater!" was all she 
 said ; but her brother's teeth shut hard together 
 and, as she turned away, he looked after her with 
 pained blue eyes which, all at once, had lost their 
 sparkle. 
 
 A pause followed her going. Then Janet said 
 shyly, 
 
 "It is too bad for you to lose your drive." 
 
 "I don't care about driving," Rob said curtly. 
 "I can go, any day. Oh, confound it! Now see 
 what I 've done! " And he held up the two frag- 
 ments of the saucer which had given way under 
 his impatient touch. 
 
 With rare tact, Janet suppressed her inclina- 
 tion to laugh at his crestfallen face. She was 
 shrewd enough to know that the broken saucer 
 was by no means Rob's only cause of trouble just 
 then. Her experience of brothers had been limited 
 to Ronald ; but she was quite aware that, as a rule, 
 brothers did not take kindly to rebuffs when their 
 sole idea had been to caress their sisters. Day's 
 gown was certainly dainty, Rob's hand wet. How- 
 ever Janet's mind lingered long upon the word. 
 Then she held out her hand for the saucer. 
 
 "Don't mind it a bit," she said carelessly. 
 "My mother broke one like it, only yesterday. 
 They are ugly things, and I shall be glad when
 
 80 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 they are gone. But, truthfully, don't you hate 
 doing this ? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "Not unless I 'm in the way." 
 
 "You are n't, not one bit. It isn't half so 
 horrid, when there 's somebody to talk to." She 
 smiled, as their fingers met on a slippery plate. 
 "Perhaps, if you beg very much," she added; 
 "I'll let you peel the potatoes for dinner." 
 
 Rob glanced at the floor. 
 
 "I 'd kneel, if I could and if there were room," 
 he assured her. "It's not such bad fun, Janet, 
 and I get bored to death sometimes." 
 
 "Bored in Quebec?" she said, in mock rebuke, 
 for the gingham pinafore hid somewhat of his 
 elegance, the stick had been left, forgotten, on 
 the kitchen table, and Janet was fast forgetting 
 both awe and admiration in a hearty liking for 
 her jovial assistant. 
 
 "Yes, even here," he assented, and something, 
 possibly the lurking memory of Day's rebuff, 
 brought an unwonted minor key into his gay 
 young voice. "Your hills are too steep for my 
 lame legs, and a fellow can't sit and look out of 
 the window, all day long." 
 
 Janet hesitated, caught her breath a little, 
 then, looking up at him, held out a welcoming 
 and soapy hand.
 
 IN QUEBEC 81 
 
 "I know," she said gently. "I had forgotten. 
 But, when you do get bored with looking out of 
 the window, coine down into the kitchen and 
 play with uie. " 
 
 And their hands and eyes, above the cooling 
 dishwater, met and pledged their friendship. 
 
 Day, meanwhile, up in her own room, was set- 
 tling her hat and pulling and patting her hair into 
 shape beneath the broad, soft brim. Her face, re- 
 flected in the mirror, looked anxious and a little 
 overcast. Already she was regretting, to the 
 depths of her soul, the swift gesture of with- 
 drawal which had sent the colour rushing into 
 her brother's cheeks. 
 
 During the past week, she had seen but little 
 of Rob. That little, however, had been good and 
 wholly to her liking. With a curious feeling of 
 detachment, born of the years when they had gone 
 their separate ways, she watched him, studied him 
 and gave him her absolute approval. To Day's 
 girlish mind, it counted for much that Rob was 
 good to look at, tall of his age and robust, and 
 without much outward mark of his year of suffer- 
 ing. It had taken Janet's keener eye to note the 
 fine lines that came, now and then, between the 
 straight yellow brows. Day's glance stopped at 
 the brows themselves and at the blue eyes beneath 
 them. Then it dropped to the clothes below, and 
 
 6
 
 82 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 she made swift contrast between Ronald's well- 
 brushed coat of last year's cut, and Rob's new 
 winter outfit which showed that neither money nor 
 taste had lacked in the ordering. In dress and 
 manner, Rob Argyle was plainly of the class, and 
 that at its best. His buoyancy and hearty good- 
 will were all his own. Day watched him with un- 
 measured pride; but she talked to Ronald Leslie. 
 
 Once only, she had gone into Rob's room. The 
 postman had brought a letter from one of his boy 
 chums, and, receiving no answer to her repeated 
 calls from the hall below, Day had mounted the 
 stairs and knocked at her brother's door. She 
 had found him, book in hand, but his eyes were 
 absently fixed on the pair of little dove-coloured 
 nuns passing in the street beneath. At her step, 
 he roused himself, and turned to greet her with a 
 brightening face. 
 
 "Oh, Day! It's you? Come in," he said, as 
 he tossed his book aside. 
 
 "I brought up your letter. No; don't get up," 
 she said hastily. "You look too comfortable to 
 stir." 
 
 "My looks belie me, then," he returned. "I'm 
 lonesome." 
 
 "Come down and stay with us," she advised 
 him, for Mrs. Argyle had her own sitting-room 
 on the floor beneath.
 
 IN QUEBEC 83 
 
 "Too much trouble to move," he said, as he 
 stretched himself, then folded his arms at the 
 back of his yellow head. "Stay and talk to a 
 fellow, Day." 
 
 " But your letter ? " she reminded him. 
 
 "It will keep. I am learning that I must take 
 you when I can. You 're not going out now ; are 
 you ? " 
 
 Day hesitated. During the past week, she had 
 struck up a sudden friendship with an American 
 girl whose people were spending a month at the 
 Chateau. There had been some vague plans for 
 that morning, and the morning was fine, all gray 
 and gold and bracing. However, Day owned a 
 conscience, and Rob's voice was wishful. 
 
 "Not unless you '11 go, too," she said, with sud- 
 den decision. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " I walked twice the length of the terrace, yes- 
 terday, and I 'in lying up, to-day, to pay for it. 
 Come and lie up, too." And, rising, he drew for- 
 ward the most comfortable chair which the room 
 afforded. 
 
 With mocking eyes, Day watched his hospitable 
 preparations for her ease. When the chair was 
 ready, 
 
 " That 's beautiful, " she said approvingly. " Now 
 sit down in it and fill it up. It is entirely too large
 
 84 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 for me. Besides, I prefer the window-seat; I like 
 to see what is moving, you know." 
 
 "But it 's not comfortable," he protested. 
 
 "Oh, but it is. Truly, I like it, Rob. And 
 then, this chair just fits you; you 're so nice and 
 big." 
 
 " Is that the best you can say for me, Day ? " 
 
 She laughed, while, with a flutter of skirts, she 
 settled herself in the wide window-seat. 
 
 "Don't fish," she admonished him. 
 
 With an odd little air of irresolution, he still 
 stood beside the chair she had scorned. 
 
 "I 'm not," he said bluntly at length. "It 's 
 only that I have wondered once in a while just 
 what you really do think of me, little sister." 
 
 For a moment, she sat looking gravely up at 
 him, and older eyes than Rob's would have read 
 the real pride and the dawning love in her face. 
 Then, of a sudden, her gravity scattered itself, 
 and a laugh chased the dreaminess from her 
 brown eyes. 
 
 "You'd better ask Ronald," she advised him 
 merrily. 
 
 At dinner, that night, the coffee was unduly 
 strong. When the clock in the hall struck two, 
 Rob was still pondering the meaning of Day's 
 words and of the look which had gone before 
 them.
 
 JN QUEBEC 85 
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 " l^VAY!" 
 
 JL/ "Oh, Day!" 
 
 The two voices, Canadian and American, one 
 from above, one from below, smote the air simul- 
 taneously. Day, ruining her eyes and her temper 
 over an intricate bit of lace work, looked up at the 
 double call. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, without troubling herself 
 to rise and open the door. 
 
 Again came the two voices, impatiently, this 
 time, and one following close upon the echo of 
 the other. 
 
 "Day!" 
 
 "Oh-h-h, Day!" 
 
 This time, she threw aside her work and went 
 to open the door. 
 
 " Did somebody want me ? " she asked. 
 
 Ronald, festooning himself over the rail of the 
 third-story stairs, was the first to get in his word. 
 
 "I want you." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " It is Saturday afternoon," he said suggestively.
 
 86 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Of course. Yesterday was Friday. To-mor- 
 row will be Sunday. What of it?" 
 
 Janet's brown head appeared beside the shoulder 
 of her brother. 
 
 " It sounds exactly like 'April, June and Novem- 
 ber,' " she commented derisively. 
 
 But Ronald, albeit his arm went around her 
 shoulders with a sureness of gesture which be- 
 tokened long custom, yet ignored her comment. 
 
 " What of it ? " he echoed Day. " Merely this : 
 no office, and you said, last week, you 'd go out 
 with me." 
 
 Down in the hall below, Rob spoke again. 
 
 "Oh, Day!" 
 
 "Yes, Rob." 
 
 " Were you coming for a drive ? " 
 
 "Sorry, Rob; I can't. Take mother." 
 
 " She 's going out to tea. Why can't you go ? " 
 
 "Because Ronald said I promised him, last 
 week. " 
 
 " Hang Ronald ! " Rob observed to himself, a 
 little too audibly for complete courtesy. 
 
 Day's head lifted itself proudly. Then she 
 turned to face the rail above. 
 
 " Where do you want to go, Ronald ? " she 
 asked, and the distinctness of the tone held its 
 own challenge to the boy in the hall below. 
 
 " Anywhere you say. What about the Island ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 87 
 
 "I'll be ready in five minutes," she returned 
 promptly. 
 
 "Then you honestly won't go with me ?" Rob 
 asked from below. 
 
 But Day, who had no notion how unused he 
 was to begging for society, nor how it galled 
 him now to do so, shook her head. 
 
 "Not to-day, Rob. I promised Ronald. Be- 
 sides, it is his only day. We can go, any time." 
 
 "But you won't," Rob objected a little sharply. 
 " You always have some excuse. Why won't you 
 both come with me, instead ? " 
 
 Day, who hated driving, vainly cast about in 
 her mind for some graceful way of begging off. 
 Ronald, however, went straight to the point. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said. "It's good of you to 
 count me in, Rob. I 'd like to go ; only, you see, 
 I 'm not getting any exercise at all, these days. 
 I 'm not used to being cooped up at a desk, and 
 it leaves me feeling anything but fit. I 'd best 
 take my Saturday afternoons in the hardest ex- 
 ercise I can. Else, I would go with you. I know 
 what a bore it is to drive out alone. I wish you 
 could go with us." 
 
 "Thanks," Rob said, for the last words had 
 come heartily. 
 
 With her hat in her hand, Day reappeared in 
 the doorway of her room.
 
 88 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Rob!" she called. "Rob!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Dou't be cross; there's a dear boy. And I 
 was just going to ask why you don't take Janet 
 with you." 
 
 Rob's eyes, passing Day's, moved upward to 
 Janet, still leaning on the rail of the upper hall. 
 
 " Will you come, please ? " There was a sudden 
 eagerness in his tone, a sudden wistfulness in his 
 eyes. 
 
 Janet, as she looked down at him, felt an odd 
 little tugging at her throat. Then she hardened 
 her heart. In reality, the invitation had come 
 but indirectly and by way of Day. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, with a slight accent of 
 finality. "I have some other plans." 
 
 Rob's eyes drooped. Then he said quietly, - 
 
 "I am sorry. I wish you could have come." 
 And, turning, he went into the drawing-room 
 where he stood by the window until Day's brown 
 frock had gone out of sight and the crisp ring of 
 Ronald's step no longer fell upon his ears. Then 
 he dropped into the nearest chair and fell to pon- 
 dering upon the value of active legs. 
 
 Janet found him there, when she came down 
 the stairs, half an hour later, in search of events 
 to amuse her. She herself was frankly bored, 
 that afternoon. Ronald had urged her to go out
 
 IN QUEBEC 89 
 
 with him and Day; but she had shaken her head 
 resolutely. 
 
 "I'll go to the terrace with you, to-night, 
 Ronald, and we '11 walk miles. This afternoon, 
 you 're better off alone with Day. If I were 
 there, you 'd think about things and, maybe, 
 talk about them. Anyway, you would worry." 
 And not all of Ronald's urging had been able 
 to shake her resolve. 
 
 The things to which Janet referred were wor- 
 risome indeed, worrisome and imminent. At a 
 family council, the night before, it had been de- 
 cided that the Leslies must take in even more 
 sail ; and it was not easy to see how they could 
 accomplish it. The new servant was a marvel of 
 cheapness ; the four Argyles were paying well for 
 their pleasant home, and Mrs. Leslie had just 
 been congratulating herself upon the prospect of 
 a comfortable winter, when a couple of old debts 
 turned up and demanded instant payment. To 
 Mrs. Leslie's mind, loyalty to her husband's 
 memory made it imperative that she should ful- 
 fil the demand. Long after Janet was in bed, 
 she could hear the low murmur of voices from 
 Ronald's room below. Small wonder that, this 
 afternoon, she had felt that Day, care-free and 
 energetic, was a better comrade for Ronald than 
 she herself could have been!
 
 90 JANET: TIER WINTER 
 
 Nevertheless, she was lonely and a good deal 
 bored by being left to herself. Had the suggestion 
 of the drive come from Rob himself, she would 
 have hailed it with delight. It was quite another 
 matter, however, to have Day arrange her plans 
 and dispose of her for the afternoon, especially 
 when Day was so obviously using her as a species 
 of stop-gap. Janet regretted the need for her re- 
 fusal, but not the refusal itself. 
 
 To her absolute surprise, she found Rob en- 
 throned in the drawing-room, alone and appar- 
 ently unoccupied. She had come downstairs 
 quietly; and, for a long moment, she stood on 
 the threshold watching him, without his notic- 
 ing her presence. For fully half that time, she 
 studied him with envious eyes, took in all the 
 luxurious details of his dress, all the unconscious 
 grace of his figure which so plainly betokened life 
 in a family where debts were not, where one's bank 
 account and one's ancestry were equally long and 
 equally clean of origin. If only Ronald could 
 have had those clothes, could have owned such 
 ties and stockings, such wonderful, sheer linen 
 as the corner which strayed from Rob's left 
 pocket! But then her eyes fell to the floor, to 
 the stiff line of the lame leg, to the stout brown 
 stick, forgotten on the carpet at his side. After 
 all and all in all, perhaps there was not so
 
 IN QUEBEC 91 
 
 much to envy. And Rob's eyes, fixed on the 
 fire, were heavy and dull. Janet stirred a little. 
 Then, as he did not heed her slight motion, she 
 stepped briskly forward into the room. 
 
 "You here? I thought you had gone," she 
 said. 
 
 At her voice, the light came back into his face, 
 the alertness to his manner. He started to rise ; 
 but she checked him. 
 
 " No ; please don't stir. I 'm not going to 
 stay. " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Saucily she laughed down at him, as she halted 
 beside his chair. 
 
 "I am afraid I might disturb your meditations. 
 But I supposed you had gone to drive. " 
 
 " No use. I 'm sick of driving alone, and you 
 would n't go with me." 
 
 She flushed a little. Then she met his eyes 
 steadily. 
 
 "You know why; don't you ? " 
 
 "I imagine I do. Still, if I hadn't been an 
 idiot, I should have spoken first." 
 
 " You really did want me to go ? " she queried 
 rather wishfully. 
 
 Stooping, he picked up his stick. 
 
 "It 's not too late now. Let 's go." 
 
 "I said I would n't," Janet objected lamely.
 
 92 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 But already Rob was half-way to the telephone. 
 
 "No matter," he reassured her from over his 
 shoulder. "That was another time, you know. 
 Can you be ready in ten minutes ? " 
 
 Janet laughed. 
 
 "I '11 scrabble. 1 am ashamed to give in," she 
 explained. "Still, it is a gorgeous day, and it is 
 a shame for you to spend it in-doors. " 
 
 Ten minutes later, she joined him, hatted and 
 furred to the chin, for the afternoon air was sharp 
 with the snow which already powdered the blue 
 Laurentides to the north of the city. For a mo- 
 ment before he opened the door, Rob stood smiling 
 down into her face. 
 
 "Janet, you're a good little fellow," he said 
 then. " Come along. " 
 
 Ronald and Day, meanwhile, were sitting on 
 the top of the Cove Field steps. They had left 
 the house, with the avowed intention of taking the 
 Island boat. Once in the street, however, Day 
 deliberately faced westward. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " Ronald demanded, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Fora walk." 
 
 " Sure. But the Island boat does n't start from 
 the Citadel." 
 
 She flashed up at him a glance of scornful 
 rebuke.
 
 IN QUEBEC 93 
 
 " I have been in the city for almost four weeks 
 now," she reminded him. 
 
 "And even now you don't know your way to the 
 boat ? " he asked disrespectfully. 
 
 " I know it perfectly. I also know the way to 
 Sillery." 
 
 " But I thought we were going to the Island. " 
 
 "Not to-day." 
 
 "Why not ?" 
 
 She hesitated. Then she gave frank answer, 
 
 "Because you always insist on paying all the 
 fares. " 
 
 Her accompanying laugh took much of the sting 
 from her words; nevertheless, Ronald, with the 
 memory of last night's discussion uppermost in 
 his mind, flushed hotly. 
 
 "Naturally," he said, and his accent was a 
 little crisp. 
 
 "No; it's not natural, either," she replied 
 lightly. "It is all right, once in a while. I 'm 
 a girl, and I like to be taken care of. Still, if we 
 are going out together, every few days, I 'd much 
 rather pay my own way." 
 
 As she spoke, she started slowly towards the 
 gray arch of the Louis Gate. Ronald, perforce, 
 kept step at her side. His own step was ir- 
 regular, however, and lacked its usual rhythmic 
 swing.
 
 94 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " What nonsense ! " he said impatiently. " This 
 is n't like you, Day." 
 
 "Then it would better be," she returned, and 
 her tone was undaunted. "At least, it is good 
 common sense." 
 
 "I fail to see it," he answered shortly. 
 
 From under the brim of her wide hat, Day 
 peered up at him furtively. His tone was omin- 
 ous. Her glimpse of his flushed face and tight- 
 shut lips was not reassuring. Convinced that a 
 fray was imminent, she swiftly decided that the 
 best she could do, was to guide his steps to a 
 spot where they could fight it out, unseen. The 
 Grande Alle'e would be a bit too conspicuous a 
 place for quarrelling. 
 
 "Let's come out across the Cove Fields," she 
 suggested. " I 've not been that way, since the 
 first day I came." 
 
 Obediently he turned at her side, crossed the 
 Grande Alle'e, crossed the bit of lawn in front 
 of the skating rink and came out across the rifle 
 ranges above the ragged earthworks to the west 
 of the Citadel. Inside the city wall, the wind 
 had blown sharply ; but up on the deserted Cove 
 Fields, the sun lay warm, and the river beneath 
 matched the sapphire tint of the sky above. 
 
 For a time, they trudged away over the crisp, 
 dry turf in a silence broken only by Ronald's
 
 IN QUEBEC 95 
 
 occasional nervous clearing of his throat. Then, 
 as they neared the top of the endless flight of 
 steps leading down to the river, he broke the 
 silence, abruptly and with an obvious effort. 
 
 "Now look here," he said briefly. "Your 
 mother put you up to this." 
 
 Most girls would have pretended to ransack 
 their minds for an antecedent to his words. 
 Not so Day, who preferred directness. 
 
 "No," she asserted. "She did not." 
 
 "Well, I wish she had," Ronald said, with some 
 impatience. 
 
 "I don't see why." 
 
 His scarlet flush deepened. 
 
 "Because one hates a girl to be thinking of 
 such things." 
 
 For her first half the answer, Day plumped her- 
 self down on the top step and drew her skirts aside 
 to make room for her companion. 
 
 "A girl does think of such things, if she has 
 any brains at all," she said calmly. "Do sit 
 down, and we '11 talk it out, once for all. We 
 may just as well settle this thing, first as last." 
 
 "I don't see any use in discussing it at all." 
 
 Her eyes twinkled, as she looked up into his 
 lowering face. 
 
 " I do, then ; that is, if we 're to go on having 
 any good times together." Then she adopted a
 
 96 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 new tone, half-cajoling, half-maternal. "Now, 
 Ronald, do sit down in the sun, like a dear 
 boy. I can't talk up to the top of a telephone 
 pole. Arguments should always be on the same 
 level." 
 
 "People shouldn't argue," he grimbled, as he 
 obeyed her and seated himself at her side. 
 
 "They shouldn't; but they do," she retorted 
 whimsically. Then she faced him, with steady 
 deliberation. "Ronald, you know I like going 
 about with you. You 've taught me all I know 
 of the city ; you 've made it wonderfully nice for 
 me. Rob is very cross at me, because I like better 
 to go with you than with him. No, listen! " She 
 lifted her hand to ward off his interruption. " It 's 
 not that I am not fair to Rob; but we both like 
 the same things, you and I, exploring and taking 
 good stiff walks, things he can't do at all. I 've 
 loved the going out with you; it has been good 
 fun. Still, after this, I shall do it only on the 
 one condition." 
 
 He saw no need to ask what was the condition. 
 For an instant, he sat with his eyes bent on the 
 long line of shabby roofs at his feet. 
 
 " Suppose I won't agree ? " he asked at length. 
 
 Her eyes met his eyes steadily. 
 
 "Then I shall stay at home, or else go driving 
 with Rob."
 
 IN QUEBEC 97 
 
 The silence which followed was long, and 
 broken only by the ceaseless trickle of falling 
 shale which slid, slid from the face of Cape 
 Diamond down into the gutters beneath. 
 
 "Are n't you a little hard on a fellow, Day ? " 
 he said then. 
 
 "Not a bit" 
 
 Sharply he faced her. 
 
 " Would you have said it, a year ago ? " 
 
 "Of course. Why not ?" 
 
 Again the scarlet tide covered his face. 
 
 " Money did n't count for so much then. " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked, in some 
 surprise. Coming to Quebec as strangers, the 
 Argyles had gained no notion how sudden and 
 complete had been the overthrow of the Leslie 
 fortunes. 
 
 "Didn't you know that it is only lately that 
 we have been poor ? " He flung the last words 
 at her sharply. 
 
 " I did n't know you were poor now, " she an- 
 swered him. 
 
 " What do you suppose we take boarders for ? " 
 he demanded curtly. 
 
 "You don't; only us." 
 
 " Well, you, then ? " 
 
 " Why, because I don't know. Because 
 Cousin John told us about you, I suppose."
 
 98 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Ronald snapped the head off from a weed grow- 
 ing up beside the steps. Then he laughed. 
 
 "I 'm afraid that wouldn't have been enough, 
 Day. Did n't you know that " The words 
 stuck in his throat. 
 
 Day glanced down at the restless, strong hands, 
 up at the clouded face. 
 
 "I don't know anything," she said slowly. 
 "Remember, we are strangers here, and my 
 mother is no gossip. Tell me about it, if you 
 like; but not unless you do like." 
 
 Her voice and manner were full of a quiet 
 dignity. In such a mood, Ronald had always 
 found the girl at her best. Now he resolved to 
 make a clean breast of the situation. Uncon- 
 sciously to himself, his eyes cleared slightly, as 
 he looked at her intent young face. 
 
 "Didn't you know," he asked steadily; "that 
 we really and truly are poor now ? That we have 
 to count and scrimp and save ? That, before my 
 father died, we used to be rich, not rich for New 
 York, but rich for Quebec ? " 
 
 Day started to speak. Then she checked her- 
 self, fearing lest she should say the wrong words. 
 Instead, she bent forward and, for an instant, 
 rested the tips of her fingers against Ronald's 
 hand. 
 
 He interpreted the touch as she had meant it;
 
 IN QUEBEC 99 
 
 his eyes showed his gratitude. Then, after a 
 moment, he went on, 
 
 "I supposed you knew it, that day at Levis, 
 when we talked about things. That 's why it hurt 
 so, to-day, when you seemed to think I could n't 
 scrape up money to take you to the Island. " 
 
 " Ronald ! What an idea ! " she broke in 
 impatiently. 
 
 "I suppose. People get queer ideas now and 
 then," he answered. "I suppose I have worried 
 till I am losing my grip." 
 
 " But what makes you worry ? " she asked, her 
 eyes fixed thoughtfully on her clasped hands. 
 
 His laugh plainly showed the effort which it 
 had cost him. 
 
 "Dollars and cents," he said tersely. "We 've 
 never thought about them, before. Now, with 
 all our scrimping, it is going to be a tug to 
 make both ends meet. I would n't mind, for 
 myself. I hate it, though, for the mater and 
 Janet. Sometimes I think it is hardest of all 
 for Janet." 
 
 " More than for you ? " 
 
 Proudly he raised his head. 
 
 "I don't mind. It is worse for a girl." 
 
 Day's thoughts moved rapidly from her dainty 
 self to her no less luxurious brother. 
 
 "I don't see why."
 
 100 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "How would you like to wear cut-over clothes 
 and a dyed coat, when you had n't been used to 
 it; and to have the girls at school, not your 
 friends, but the girls you never used to talk to, 
 twit you because your mother kept a boarding- 
 house ? " he demanded hotly. 
 
 "Does Janet?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Day pondered swiftly. 
 
 " I 'd thump them, and then I 'd cut them 
 dead," she said at last. Then she faced Ronald 
 once more, while the fire left her voice which 
 grew very gentle. "I'm sorry," she said; "I 
 had n't any idea how bad it was, nor really that 
 it was bad at all. Still, I think I am glad you 
 told me, for it may keep me from making blun- 
 ders in the future. But do you want to know 
 what I think about things, money and all that ? " 
 
 In spite of himself, Ronald smiled at the in- 
 tentness of her tone. And she looked so dainty 
 and prosperous, BO absolutely unable, from her 
 own girlish experience, to form any idea of 
 what the lack of money really might mean. 
 
 "You think, the way I used to do, that it *s a 
 mighty good thing to have ? " he queried. 
 
 "Yes," she said frankly. "I do. We 've al- 
 ways had it, Rob and I, all we wanted and a 
 good deal more than we either of us have needed.
 
 IN QUEBEC 101 
 
 1 love it, love pretty clothes and journeys and hav- 
 ing the best kind of servants and all the rest of it. 
 But I don't think it 's the only thing, nor the best. 
 I 'd rather eat boiled rice and wear cut-over stock- 
 ings than not know iny grandfather was a nice 
 sort of "man. And I honestly hope that, if my 
 father were to lose his money to-morrow, Rob 
 and I could grit our teeth and take it as coolly 
 as you and Janet have done. I hope he won't 
 I don't want to have to be heroic. It would 
 only be a comfort to know I could be, if it were 
 necessary. " 
 
 But Ronald shook his head. 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't come in that class," he 
 said. 
 
 As on one previous occasion, she held out her 
 hand to his. 
 
 "Don't be too sure," she said. Then swiftly 
 she brought the talk back to its point of depar- 
 ture. " Now about our coming out together, " she 
 went on, with a frank, off-hand directness which 
 Ronald was powerless to resent; "let's come 
 straight to the point. I have my allowance; it 
 is probably ten times yours. Anyway, it is 
 more than I can spend, up here where there 's 
 not so much to do. Let 's agree that, when we 
 go off for a frolic, we each pay our own way. 
 It does n't sound nice ; but it 's much more fun.
 
 102 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 We girls hate to be head over heels in debt. 
 It's a good deal that you're willing to dawdle 
 about with me and show me the sights. That 
 you can do better than anybody else. But, for 
 the rest " She paused suggestively. Then 
 she added, " Is it a bargain ? " 
 
 Ronald hesitated. Just as he was opening his 
 mouth to reply, a shadow fell across them, and a 
 languid, accentless voice inquired, - 
 
 " How do you do ? Oh, I say, did you ever get 
 the poor chap out ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 103 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 is a queer place. I fancy there 's 
 nothing else here like it." 
 
 His Baedeker propped open before him and a 
 sheaf of paper by his side, Sir George Porteous 
 sat in the writing-room of the Chateau, two days 
 later, arduously engaged in composing a letter to 
 his step-mother. His step-mother, who was also 
 the source of future supplies, was fond of hard, 
 concrete facts. Sir George bit the end of his pen- 
 holder, while he conned the red-bound volume with 
 intent and frowning brow. 
 
 " It is called the Gibraltar of America. Built 
 on a high cliff over the Saint Lawrence, it is 
 crowned with the Citadel. The soldiers are Cana- 
 dians, and not at all swagger, like our Guards. 
 There are several convents and monasteries here, 
 and one meets a priest at every corner. Down by 
 the river, there are shabby streets called Lower 
 Town. Up on the hill, which the inhabitants 
 call The Cape, there are two main roads and a 
 lot of cross streets ; but they all seem to lead to
 
 104 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 the terrace or the Basilica. That last is the 
 French church, two hundred and fifty years old. 
 There is a university, too; but I haven't seen it 
 yet. I fancy it has n't any boats." 
 
 Sir George drew a long sigh, as he laid down 
 his pen and, leaning back in his chair, allowed 
 his indolent glance to roam to and fro about the 
 room, before it finally sought the terrace beneath 
 the window and the broad blue river beyond. His 
 step-mother was so fond of facts; and he had ac- 
 cumulated so very few of them, during the two 
 weeks he had spent in Quebec. 
 
 Looking back over the two weeks, Sir George 
 Porteous found it hard to account for the time. 
 Two weeks! That made fourteen days, and there 
 were twenty-four hours in the day. Of course, 
 he had not kept awake all the time. No fellow 
 could do that. He had had to do some dressing, 
 and the meals had taken such a lot of time. 
 Still, he had been out, every day. Really, he 
 had walked quite a lot. Every morning, he 
 had walked past the post office and the Basilica 
 and down into Saint John Street to the florist 
 shop. And, every afternoon, he had gone out 
 the Grande Alle'e. Funny name, that, for such 
 a little street I But everybody seemed to walk 
 there. Vaguely he wondered what might he 
 beyond the toll gate.
 
 IN QUEBEC 105 
 
 Suddenly his face lighted, and he picked up 
 his pen, while the other hand, its index finger 
 outstretched, trailed along the open page before 
 him. 
 
 "Quebec was the scene of a famous battle. 
 On the thirteenth of September, seventeen hun- 
 dred and fifty-nine, the English climbed the cliff 
 at the back of the city, and defeated the French 
 outside the city wall. Both generals were killed, 
 and now have the same monument on which my 
 bedroom window looks down. This marks the 
 fall of France in America. If Wolfe had lived, 
 who knows " 
 
 Once more he leaned back in his chair. This 
 time, however, his long sigh of relief merged 
 itself into an unmistakable yawn. 
 
 "Awful bore, this history!" he observed to 
 himself. "I believe I '11 go out for a walk and 
 see if I can't find out some more facts. It 's facts 
 she wants, by George! The only question is how 
 to get them. " 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that he had travelled 
 for many months on end and in many climes, Sir 
 George Porteous possessed a marked hollow where 
 his bump of locality ought to have been. He knew 
 the Ring as being the ancient Place d'Armes of 
 the French epoch. He knew the long, straight 
 road which runs westward from the Chateau wall,
 
 106 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and calls itself Saint Louis Street, or the Grande 
 Allde, or the Sillery Road, according to its loca- 
 tion in regard to the tollgate and the city wall. 
 He had a vague notion that the Citadel was at the 
 summit of all things, as befitted a British fortress; 
 and he had another vague notion that all down- 
 hill roads led into a vast unknown and shabby 
 area dubbed the Lower Town. Beyond these 
 very finite limits, his local knowledge stopped 
 short. And so it came to pass that, by the 
 time he had made a dozen turns after leaving 
 the Chateau court, Sir George Porteous was al- 
 most irretrievably lost. To his surprise, he met 
 with unexpected difficulties in finding himself. 
 When at length he accomplished that end, it 
 was quite by accident and by strange and devi- 
 ous courses. That accident and those courses 
 landed him all at once before a streetcar whose 
 front was plainly labelled Ohdteau Frontenac. 
 Behind him was a huge gray stone building, also 
 plainly labelled, and something in the label cap- 
 tured Sir George Porteous's languid attention. 
 
 "By George, here's a hospital!" he said. 
 "She always did go in for hospitals, you know." 
 
 Pushing his hat far to the back of his head, he 
 put up his glass and fell to ogling the massive 
 front of the H6tel Dieu, as though he expected 
 its windows to open and a shower of little facts
 
 IN QUEBEC 107 
 
 to come flying forth, as if in answer to his win- 
 ning glance. Nothing of the kind happened, 
 however. The place was as still and deserted 
 as the grave, save for a workman putting up a 
 storm door somewhere in the depths of the arch. 
 Sir George let his eyeglass fall, and compressed 
 his lips until the wrinkles of flesh met above the 
 heavy creases which ran slantwise from his nose 
 to the outer corners of his chin. Then he cast a 
 distrustful glance over his shoulder, to see if the 
 streetcar were still in sight. 
 
 After the fashion of streetcars, it had moved 
 itself out of the landscape. Its place was taken 
 by a stout little Canadian pony that came scram- 
 bling around the bend of Palace Hill, its sturdy 
 forelegs stiff and straight under the pull of its 
 high, wood-laden cart. Another pony followed, 
 and still another, their drivers seated astride the 
 load, shouting and cracking their whips in a lusty 
 chorus which reminded Sir George of something 
 he had heard once in an opera. As if to verify 
 the impression, he glanced up at the background 
 of mountains, purple in the light of a coming 
 storm, which ringed in the Saint Charles valley 
 at his feet. Then, as the unmistakable buzz of 
 an electric car came faintly up to his ears, he 
 faced about again with a jerk. An instant later, 
 the car came around the turn from the trestle,
 
 108 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and, by rare good fortune, its end also bore the 
 reassuring label Chdteau Frontenac. Sir George's 
 brow cleared, and he relaxed the pressure on his 
 lips. 
 
 "I 'm here," he communed with himself; "and 
 I can't well lose myself, with the tram passing 
 the gate. It looks the sort of thing she 'd like, 
 and I fancy I 'd best go inside and see the place 
 for myself. She '11 row, if I crib too much out of 
 Baedeker, you know." 
 
 Once more and a bit distrustfully, he glanced 
 back over his shoulder. Then for an instant, he 
 showed signs of hesitating between the two means 
 of entrance. A high, wide flight of steps led to 
 the main door. A low archway seemed to give 
 admission to the inner recesses of the place. Sir 
 George chose the latter path, moved thereto, how- 
 ever, less by the instinct of exploration than by 
 his natural indolence which made the steps look 
 to him unduly high and steep. 
 
 The man working at the door sought to chal- 
 lenge his passage through the arch ; but Sir 
 George, giving him a card and a stony glare, 
 prevailed and went his way. 
 
 "I must, you know," he said firmly. "I must 
 see what 's inside." 
 
 Dubiously the man shook his head. Contact 
 with many tourists had taught him to under-
 
 IN QUEBEC 109 
 
 stand a few words of the American tongue. Sir 
 George, however, might have been talking in 
 Cingalese, for anything the man could prove to 
 the contrary. He shook his head; then he 
 stepped back and Sir George passed in beyond 
 him. 
 
 The archway opened on a square and grassy 
 court, flanked on four sides by the building. 
 At right angles to it, another arch, lower and 
 much more ancient, pierced the wall and led 
 into another court which was barred across by 
 a high wooden fence. Sir George, straying aim- 
 lessly onward, came to the fence and, of a sudden, 
 discovered that the fence was cut by a narrow door 
 and that the door was slightly ajar. Modesty was 
 not a ruling attribute of the life of Sir George Por- 
 teous. He pushed open the door and walked in. 
 A garden was beyond, and beyond that another 
 fence. On the west, a long, low wing of the 
 building showed itself ; and, on the opposite side 
 of the enclosure, a high stone wall shut off all 
 sight of the outer world. Everywhere was quiet ; 
 everywhere was the mark of age-long peace. Sir 
 George's step grew more alert. He had not counted 
 on finding anything in America so ripely artistic 
 as this quiet nook. He crossed the garden and 
 laid his hand boldly upon the latch of the gate in 
 the wall at the farther end. The gate yielded,
 
 110 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and he walked into the place beyond. Then he 
 halted and stared about him. 
 
 " By George ! " he said. " Oh, by George ! 
 How rummy ! " 
 
 His chin raised, that his eyeglass might be 
 brought to bear upon the walls around him, he 
 still went straying forward, stumbling slightly 
 over irregularities in the ground. Then sud- 
 denly he gave a violent start. He had been sup- 
 posing the place quite deserted. It was most 
 disconcerting to be brought to an abrupt halt by 
 a hand laid on one's arm. The touch was gentle ; 
 but its gentleness held no hint of indecision. 
 
 " Eh ? Oh, I say, what 's the matter ? " 
 
 As he spoke, Sir George turned about sharply. 
 Then he dodged back and made an ineffective 
 snatch at his hat. Instead of the masculine care- 
 taker that he had expected, Sir George Porteous 
 found himself staring at a thin French face set 
 in stiff folds of white. His eyes dropped, trailing 
 aimlessly over the bunchy dress, the stout, coarse 
 shoes and at last coming to rest upon the ground. 
 Then he raised his eyes again.. The nun's face 
 was plainly accusing. Another nun, sprung up 
 from somewhere, was at his other side, and, from 
 across the courtyard, two more nuns, framed in 
 an open doorway, pointed their fingers at him in 
 ghostly admonition.
 
 IN QUEBEC 111 
 
 "Oh, good morning," Sir George said, as affably 
 as he was able. " It 's a fine place here. I think 
 I 'd like to come back to-morrow, you know, and 
 bring a fellow to take some pictures. " 
 
 The first nun shook her head. 
 
 "It would not be permitted," she said in 
 French. 
 
 Sir George fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, 
 produced his card and held it out to the nun. 
 The nun stared at it uncomprehendingly. 
 
 "I do not wish a ticket," she said, in slow, 
 halting English. "There is no admission here." 
 
 Sir George shook his head slowly. 
 
 "I know. Of course, you can't have any tourist 
 fellows here. But Lady Dudsworth is interested 
 in hospitals, you know. She is on boards and 
 things, and she likes facts and - Sir George 
 suddenly felt an inspiration coming, and his tone 
 grew more animated; "and I thought you could 
 give her a lot of new ideas. It 's ideas, you 
 know, she ought to have." 
 
 The nun's narrow comprehension of English 
 caused her inability to comment upon the strange 
 workings of heredity. Instead, her clutch on his 
 arm tightened. 
 
 "Monsieur must go out," she said firmly. 
 
 "But I can come back?" Sir George's tone 
 was charged with hope.
 
 112 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "It is impossible." 
 
 "Oh, but I must." 
 
 " No one is allowed to come here. " 
 
 Sir George peered up at his companion, and 
 his countenance expressed vague wonderment. 
 
 "But I 'HI here, you know, and so are you," he 
 protested. 
 
 "It is not allowed." 
 
 Sir George shook his head. 
 
 " But it is. Else, how did I get here ? " 
 
 The question was unanswerable. The nun could 
 only repeat her order for exit. This time, the 
 second nun came to her aid. 
 
 "You must go," she said, with calm and 
 spectral dignity; and, as she spoke, Sir George 
 felt her hand, gentle, but viselike, shut upon his 
 other arm. 
 
 For one long instant, he stood there, powerless 
 to step and staring alternately from one to the 
 other of the placid, determined faces swathed in 
 their linen folds. Then he sought his glass ; but, 
 dangling just out of reach, it eluded his fingers. 
 The clasp on his arm relaxed no whit of its steadi- 
 ness. Then Sir George Porteous yielded to the 
 inevitable. 
 
 "Oh, I say, I'll go, if you want," he said 
 hurriedly. " But arc n't you a bit, oh, a bit 
 exacting with a fellow ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 113 
 
 As he spoke, he took a step forward in the 
 direction of the gate by which he had entered 
 the court. To his surprise, the two nuns each 
 made a step forward also, and their steps were 
 measured to his with a mathematical exactness. 
 Sir George made a tentative gesture with his 
 pinioned arms. The gesture ended with the 
 first inch of swing. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't trouble yourselves to come 
 along, too," Sir George protested hastily. "I 
 know the way out." 
 
 Without loosing her hold of her captive, the 
 first nun paused to lock the gate through which 
 they had come and to pocket the key. Then she 
 faced forward again. 
 
 "It is necessary," she said. 
 
 " But I know the way quite well. It is only a 
 step, you know, just around the corner to the 
 street. " 
 
 The second nun spoke. 
 
 "We will accompany monsieur." 
 
 Again Sir George made an almost imperceptible 
 experiment on his arms. In response, the grip on 
 either side tightened a little. Sir George lost his 
 temper. 
 
 "Oh, by George!" he said testily. "You 
 need n't take me all the way out to the street 
 in this fashion. It 's beastly, you know. A fel- 
 
 8
 
 114 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 low would think you thought I was watching my 
 chance to break into your blasted garden and steal 
 things." 
 
 But the grip held firm, and the silence was 
 unbroken. And so, protesting volubly and fac- 
 ing one and then the other of his impassive jailers 
 with irate glances which, however, lacked the 
 compelling power of his eyeglass, dangling and 
 clicking impotently against the buttons of his 
 waistcoat, Sir George Porteous was conducted 
 forth from the garden, a twentieth-century Adam 
 in the unrelaxing grasp of a pair of Eves. 
 
 Breakfast over, that Monday morning, Day had 
 stood long before her window, staring down into 
 the street with unseeing eyes which took no heed 
 of the procession streaming towards the post office 
 and the business streets beyond. All the day be- 
 fore, as if to prove to Ronald how little difference 
 their talk had really made, Day had watched his 
 moods and fitted herself into them with the skill 
 which came to her now and then. Ronald's face, 
 overcast at breakfast when the memory of his late 
 talk with his mother was still fresh upon him, 
 had brightened by noon. Over the dinner table 
 at night, it still wore the alert smile it had taken 
 on during their long afternoon tramp out the 
 Grande Allde and far into the country beyond. 
 It was in a frame of mind dangerously near to
 
 IN QUEBEC 115 
 
 smug content that Day watched him starting for 
 vespers at Saint Matthews in company with Janet. 
 Then she turned away and entered her mother's 
 sitting-room. She found Rob there alone; and, 
 for the hour, Rob showed himself taciturn and 
 glum. When Day put herself to bed, that 
 night, her girlish head was full of the notion 
 that boys were extremely hard to manage, and 
 cranky withal. 
 
 The notion was still there, the next morning; 
 but it was tempered with a hazy idea that, up to 
 now, she had made no especial effort to manage 
 her brother; that, rather than that, she had lav- 
 ished all her care upon Ronald Leslie. To be 
 sure, Ronald needed it more. Life was very 
 full of disappointments to him just then, and no 
 decent girl could sit by and watch his brave way 
 of going without things he liked, and make no 
 effort to fill in the gap. Ronald was such a dear, 
 and so plucky. He answered so quickly to her 
 efforts to cheer him up. It did seem as if Rob 
 
 Three soldiers passed the window, their brief 
 capes swinging in time to their stride, their dimin- 
 utive caps poised insecurely above their right ears. 
 Two nuns followed them, nuns whose dove-coloured 
 cloaks showed that they had come from the Fran- 
 ciscan convent out on the Grande Alle'e. Then 
 came a portly, scarlet-coated officer, and behind
 
 116 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 him the Dean, stepping briskly along on his 
 gaitered legs which offered trig contrast to the 
 trio of black soutanes behind him. Day re- 
 called her wandering attention with a jerk. 
 Starting with the soldiers, it had gone, by swift 
 and devious courses, around to her brother, now 
 shut up in his own room across the hall. Per- 
 haps Rob was facing some disappointments, too. 
 
 Day rarely was a girl of many hesitations. 
 Now, opening her door, she crossed the hall 
 and tapped lightly on the opposite panels. 
 
 "Come." The answering tone was indifferent, 
 indifferent the eyes which looked up from the 
 book. 
 
 However, Day was not to be daunted. If, as 
 she shrewdly suspected, hers was the blame, then 
 hers, also, the cure. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " she demanded. 
 
 "Reading." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A book." 
 
 "So I observe," she said coolly, as she drew up 
 a chair and dropped down at his side. "Look 
 up, Rob, and tell me whether it is half so inter- 
 esting as I am." 
 
 Her wheedling tone was not to be resisted. 
 Rob's hand shut on her hair, then turned her 
 head about, until their eyes met
 
 IN QUEBEC 117 
 
 " Not half, " he answered, smiling. " Now trot 
 along and be a good girl." 
 
 "But I can't," she said. "It's not in me." 
 Then, obeying some sudden impulse, she reached 
 out and took possession of his hand. "Rob," she 
 added, with manifest effort; "I 1 believe I've 
 been a good deal of a pig." 
 
 The book, sliding to the floor, was allowed to 
 rest there, face down and a leaf turned edgewise, 
 while Rob leaned back in his chair and faced his 
 sister in astonishment. 
 
 " Why, Day, what 's the matter ? " he asked her. 
 
 "You." The answer was accompanied by a 
 laugh which threatened to become hysterical. 
 
 "I? What have I done ?" 
 
 "Nothing. It's I. At least, I haven't done 
 things," she explained incoherently. "Rob, do 
 you think I 'm very horrid ? " 
 
 Rob Argyle possessed no more than his own due 
 share of masculine obtuseness. Nevertheless, he 
 was at a loss to explain Day's sudden outburst of 
 self-reproach. Whatever its cause, however, her 
 woe was obviously real. Obeying the sixth sense 
 which comes, at times like this, to young fellows 
 who have lived much in the open air, he put out 
 his arm and gathered Day into its curve. To his 
 surprise, he was conscious of a momentary nest- 
 ling against his shoulder.
 
 118 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "What is it, Day?" he asked again. "Is 
 something wrong ? " 
 
 "Everything is," she made comprehensive an- 
 swer for, like most self-reliant girls, once she 
 gave in to her emotions, they swept her off her 
 feet. 
 
 Over the top of her unconscious head, Rob 
 smiled ever so slightly. He had had little ex- 
 perience of girlish woe. Nevertheless, he kept 
 the amusement all out of his voice, as he said, 
 
 " What, for instance ? " 
 
 "I 've been off too much with Ronald." 
 
 Light suddenly began to dawn upon the dark 
 places of Rob's mind. 
 
 " Oh, I see. You and Ronald have been fight- 
 ing. Never mind, dear. Let him alone, and he '11 
 come round in time." 
 
 The words were wholly soothing. Not so the 
 tone. Day raised her head abruptly. 
 
 "Ronald never fights," she said, with sudden 
 tartness. "He is a dear." Then she rose to her 
 feet, albeit a little reluctantly, for the curving 
 grasp of Rob's strong arm had somehow carried 
 her back to the memory of her little childhood 
 which, a moment before, had seemed so remote 
 and dim. 
 
 Rob looked up at her in surprise. As yet, he 
 was wholly unable to fathom the workings of the
 
 IN QUEBEC 119 
 
 feminine mind. Slowly he rose and stood facing 
 her. 
 
 "You're not going to leave me alone in my 
 glory, Day ? I thought you had come to stay." 
 
 She had meant to leave him at once. His 
 accent broke down her sudden antagonism, how- 
 ever, and her step halted. Swiftly she went back 
 to the first intention which had brought her to his 
 room. 
 
 " I came to see if you 'd take me out for a 
 drive," she suggested. 
 
 Gravely Rob looked down into her uplifted 
 face, noting, as he did so, the unwonted gentle- 
 ness which rested in her brown eyes. 
 
 " Fibbing, Day ; or do you truly want to go ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 And she did fib bravely. 
 
 "I do want to go, Rob. Else, I shouldn't ask 
 you." 
 
 Apparently his scrutiny of her face satisfied 
 him, for his own face brightened. 
 
 "Good child! I'd love it. Let's make it a 
 walk, instead ; that is, unless you 'd freeze at my 
 pace." 
 
 " But ought you ? " she queried. 
 
 " Hang the ought. I '11 risk it, if you will. 
 Everyone says it is bound to snow, to-morrow, 
 and that will shut me up, tighter than a drum.
 
 120 ./.LV/iT: IlKR WINTER 
 
 Get your hat on, Day, and we '11 take our last 
 fling and forget the consequences," he said jovi- 
 ally, as he stooped for his stick. "These cabbies 
 all turn the same corners and spin the same yarns. 
 Take me into a new quarter, Day, there 's a good 
 soul." 
 
 And Day, as she went hurrying away for her 
 hat and coat, ransacked her mind how best to 
 obey his behest. It was not too easy to explore 
 new territory within the limits of a half-mile 
 radius. Nevertheless, Day's mood was one of 
 supreme content. Bob had ceased to glower, 
 and her own conscience had ceased to lacerate 
 her self-esteem. Moreover, Rob in his present 
 mood promised to be a comrade second in inter- 
 est to none. 
 
 Half an hour later, at the bend of Palace Hill, 
 Day stood waiting for Rob to get himself down 
 the steps of the car. 
 
 "Just a little way around here," she said 
 eagerly. " It 's the sweetest place, endlessly 
 old and picturesque. I know you '11 love it." 
 
 Rob, safely on the ground, started to reply. 
 Then he held his peace and raised his head to 
 listen to a faint and distant hail. 
 
 "Oh, I say! Come here, you know." 
 
 The voice was familiar, familiar, too, the wide- 
 spanned A. Rob turned about alertly. The next
 
 IN QUEBEC 121 
 
 instant, he burst into a roar of laughter. Close 
 at hand rose the massive bulk of the Hotel 
 Dieu, its front pierced by one wide archway. 
 Out through the archway towards the street, pro- 
 testing, vociferating, expostulating, his hat awry 
 and his arms rampantly akimbo, there came Sir 
 George Porteous. And, on either side of Sir 
 George Porteous, clasping his manly arm with an 
 iron, but nerveless hand, there walked a guardian 
 nun, stern, impenetrable and wholly unrelenting. 
 
 From afar, Sir George spied Rob, hailed him 
 as an old acquaintance. 
 
 "Come here," he iterated shrilly. 
 
 And Rob came, more hastily than was quite 
 good for his lame leg; but Sir George manifestly 
 considered himself in need of succour. 
 
 " What 's the trouble ? " he queried, just as the 
 two nuns, arriving at the end of the arch, let go 
 their captive's elbows and stepped back into its 
 shadowy interior. 
 
 Sir George looked helplessly at Rob, distrust- 
 fully at the nuns, made a tentative gesture to dis- 
 cover whether his arms were really free; then, 
 finding that they were, he straightened his hat 
 and grasped the string of his eyeglass. 
 
 "There 's been an awful row, you know," he ex- 
 plained then. " These er these ladies took 
 me for a sneak thief after their fruit, or some-
 
 122 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 thing, and they insisted upon putting me out. 
 Really, they 're very strong ladies," he added 
 reminiscently. "They must go in for a great 
 deal of exercise, and that. I wish you 'd please 
 tell them that you know me, and that I 'm not 
 given to breaking into things." 
 
 But Day had come up to Rob's side. 
 
 " What about the fort at Levis ? " she inquired 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 Sir George faced around and stared at her in 
 amazement 
 
 "Oh, is it you ?" he said dispassionately then. 
 "Seems to me you are always about."
 
 IN QUEBEC 123 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 AS a matter of local loyalty, the Leslies had 
 long since become life members of the 
 Historical Society. As a matter of pure conven- 
 ience and because it gave access to the only 
 English library within reach, the Argyles had 
 lost no time in being proposed for membership. 
 And so it came about that the cozy little library 
 was a familiar haunt to all four of the young 
 people. Rob Argyle, in particular, had been 
 prompt in assuming it as his own. 
 
 To Rob's no slight disgust, he had found that 
 the fall of winter was curtailing even his narrow 
 range of liberty to a most surprising extent. At 
 their best, in summer and to active legs, Quebec 
 sidewalks are none too safe. The insecure board- 
 ing, striped with wide cracks, the unexpected steps 
 at the corners of the streets: these are gloomily 
 suggestive of sprained ankles to come. Covered 
 with the white frosts of autumn, they become 
 dangerous ; overlaid with a thin coating of hard- 
 trodden snow, they are altogether deadly. For 
 a week after the first snowfall, Rob managed to
 
 124 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 reach the terrace in safety. On the eighth day, 
 emboldened by his success, he attempted to in- 
 clude the post office in his morning walk. The 
 ninth day he spent in bed, preaching prudence to 
 himself and nursing his twisted leg. All in all, 
 the past four weeks had showed a marked gain. 
 He could not afford to lose it all, for the sake of 
 being blown to an intoxicating sort of breathless- 
 ness on the wind-swept terrace. Towards night, 
 he fell to casting about in his own mind for a 
 new occupation. 
 
 He found it at the library. By the direct path 
 along Sainte Ursule Street, the library was five 
 minutes' walk away. It took fifteen to reach it 
 on the cars which passed both doors. However, 
 time was not valuable to Rob ; and, morning after 
 morning, he clambered out of the car, entered the 
 low yellow building and mounted the single flight 
 of stairs. Once inside the wide, warm room and 
 divested of his coat and hat, Rob lost no time in 
 possessing himself of a book and seeking the place 
 he had chosen as his own, in one of the deep case- 
 ments in the far corner of the room behind the 
 card catalogue. Seated there, his lame foot in a 
 chair before him and his elbows on his knees be- 
 side the open book, Rob lost himself to time and 
 place, while he ranged up and down the world by 
 the side of the explorers and adventurers whose
 
 IN QUEBEC 125 
 
 stories lined a goodly part of the walls. Read- 
 ing had been an acquired taste for Rob. By now, 
 however, owing to stress of circumstances, he had 
 acquired it thoroughly. Had the chance offered, 
 he would have stood on the poop deck by the side 
 of Captain Cook. Chance forbidding, he would 
 read of the experiences of the lucky fellow who 
 did. 
 
 Without the resource of the library, Rob would 
 have found time hanging heavy on his hands, that 
 winter. Janet and he were firm friends, and, 
 little by little, Day was creeping towards her old 
 place in his life. However, they were girls, and 
 talked about clothes and lacework and the way 
 they did their hair. When he was with the two 
 of them, Rob endured their chatter as best he 
 might; but it palled on him and usually ended 
 by driving him out of the room. Once out of 
 hearing, however, he told himself that some 
 things might be worse. He did not allow him- 
 self to be specific; but there still lurked in his 
 mind the memory of one stormy night when Day, 
 coming in all aglow with exercise, had taken pity 
 on his loneliness and, dropping down on the rug 
 at his side, had attempted to talk football to him. 
 Rob's sense of humour had brought him trium- 
 phantly through the ordeal. Nevertheless, he saw 
 to it that the experience should never be repeated.
 
 126 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 As a general thing, Ronald and Rob let each 
 other severely alone. Questioned, neither one of 
 them could have given reason for the mutual 
 avoidance. Both were well-born, well-bred. The 
 three years' difference in their ages counted for 
 little, since Rob was manly and self-reliant to a 
 rare degree. They never clashed; they merely 
 passed each other by on the other side. Ronald 
 was unfeignedly sorry for Rob and showed it. He 
 showed, also, a courteous tolerance for Rob's hob- 
 bies of whose charm he himself had no comprehen- 
 sion. He loved exercise; but he hated sports. 
 American football, to his mind, was a thing to 
 be classed with the bull fights of Spain. Rob's 
 injury was one more proof of the theory he had 
 always cherished. He pitied the injury, but he 
 deplored its cause. 
 
 Rob, on his side, accepted the pity more be- 
 cause he was unable to help himself than because 
 he was grateful. Judged from his point of view, 
 Ronald was a nice, ladylike young fellow without 
 the ladylike attitude of pretending to care for 
 sports. Had chance not placed them in the same 
 domestic circle, that winter, Rob would never 
 have given a second thought to Ronald Leslie, 
 save in so far as Ronald Leslie monopolized too 
 great a share of Day's time and attention. 
 Forced into a superficial semblance of friend-
 
 IN QUEBEC 127 
 
 ship, he treated Ronald with a tolerance which 
 differed from that which Ronald accorded him 
 in being easy and wholly careless. He totally 
 failed to appreciate the real manliness of the 
 young Canadian, the quiet pluck with which he 
 had set himself to work to make the best of his 
 fallen fortune. Now and then, however, his con- 
 science did smite him a little, as he marked the 
 unfailing kindliness with which Ronald looked 
 out for his physical weakness. Rob hated being 
 looked out for. Nevertheless, he could not fail 
 to be struck by Ronald's constant heed of his 
 comfort. 
 
 "And yet, do you know," he said to his mother, 
 one night, at the end of a long discussion of the 
 whole Leslie family; "good as the fellow is 
 and he is good, too he gives me the feeling 
 that he is best off, doddering about over a tea 
 tray and holding yarn for people to wind. He 's 
 a nice lady and a pretty one; but, after all, it 
 is the old crowd of the fellows that I am pining 
 to see." 
 
 And he did pine for them, too. At times, the 
 pining was acute ; but it generally happened when 
 he was alone in his room and the door was shut. 
 Rob Argyle was not the boy to let his voice get 
 pitched to a minor key. His mother, watching 
 him sharply, after the fashion of mothers, saw
 
 128 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 the heavy drag of his foot and thanked Providence 
 for the jolly twinkle in the keen blue eyes. At 
 best, Rob's healing would be slow. It was some- 
 thing that his courage bade fair to outlast it. She 
 rose, crossed the room and, halting by his chair, 
 fondled his yellow head in an unspoken caress 
 which Rob answered promptly and with interest 
 Their weeks together in the little foreign city 
 were bringing mother and son into closer union 
 than they had ever known until then. Mrs. 
 Argyle was the one living person to whom Rob 
 had ever confessed either pain or dreariness of 
 spirit And she was shrewd enough to know 
 what, from a boy like Rob, such confessional 
 was worth. 
 
 The raw wind, sweeping down Saint Louis 
 Street, bit furiously at Rob's ears, one morning 
 in early December, as he stood on the curbstone, 
 waiting for the car to take him to the library. 
 The gray sky, heavy with unfallen snow, seemed 
 resting on the city spires, and the river, as he 
 rounded the curve by the Chateau, showed itself 
 a sea of chopping, white-capped waves. Even in 
 the moment it took him to transfer from car to 
 car, Rob was chilled to the marrow of his bones. 
 No New England gale would ever have had half 
 the cunning to discover the narrow crack between 
 his neck and his high, close collar. He shrugged
 
 IN QUEBEC 129 
 
 his shoulders with a reminiscent shiver, as the 
 door finally closed behind him, and the warm air 
 of the library wrapped itself about him gratefully. 
 
 The place, as was usual in the mornings, was 
 quite deserted. The librarian, busy at his desk, 
 tossed him a cordial nod, as the familiar step 
 sounded on the threshold. Rob halted to speak 
 to him, halted again beside the table to choose a 
 couple of new magazines, then crossed the room 
 in search of his corner and of oblivion. 
 
 An hour later, he roused himself with a jerk and 
 came back to his surroundings. Janet, powdered 
 with snow from head to heel, had plumped herself 
 down in the window by his side, and the cold 
 drops, falling from her shoulders, were raining 
 down across his sleeve. 
 
 " Hullo, Janet ! You here ? " Rob nodded and 
 yielded her a few inches more of space. 
 
 " I came to return a book. What are you read- 
 ing ? Yes, we can talk. The librarian has gone, 
 and there 's not a soul here but ourselves. Did 
 you know it was snowing ? " 
 
 Rob shook a small pool out of a hollow of his 
 sleeve. 
 
 " I gathered the fact from your appearance. " 
 
 "Gathered the water, you 'd better say." And 
 Janet brushed him off remorsefully, then shook 
 herself much as a Newfoundland dog might have 
 
 9
 
 130 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 done. " Look out of the window, " she bade him 
 then. 
 
 Obediently Rob turned about. Then he gave a 
 sharp exclamation of surprise. According to his 
 wont, he had been too much absorbed in the 
 printed page before him to heed the picture out- 
 side the window. Now he found himself staring 
 into a white mist of whirling, eddying flakes 
 which completely shut out from sight the row 
 of buildings just across the narrow court, save 
 when some gust of wind, stronger by far than 
 its fellows, parted the flakes and drove them 
 slantwise, to disclose the gray old walls beyond. 
 
 "I say, this looks wintry," Rob made comment, 
 while there deepened upon him the sense of com- 
 fort gained from massy walls and a good coal fire. 
 " If this keeps on, I 'd best be getting home. " 
 However, as he spoke, his figure relaxed once 
 more against the wall at his side. " What have 
 you been about, this morning, Janet ? " 
 
 Janet laughed a little shortly. 
 
 "Fighting," she answered. 
 
 " Who now ? " Rob queried. 
 
 His question was wholly jovial. Nevertheless, 
 Janet read into it an implication that she was 
 prone to disagree, and she answered crisply, 
 
 "Day." 
 
 " What is the row with Day ? " Rob asked still 
 jovially.
 
 IN QUEBEC 131 
 
 " I think she is stuck up. " 
 
 Rob closed his book and laid it down in the 
 chair before him. Then he faced Janet with 
 honest, friendly blue eyes. 
 
 "Oh, come now, Janet, Day is my sister. I 
 can't let you go on talking like that," he said. 
 
 But not even her walk in the wind and snow 
 had cooled Janet's warlike ardour. 
 
 "I can't help it, if she is your sister," she said, 
 with a tartness which was rare with her. " If you 
 did n't want the answer, you should n't have asked 
 the question." 
 
 Silently Rob pondered the logic of her position 
 and silently admitted its force. Then he asked, 
 
 " But what has Day done ? " 
 
 "Criticized everything." 
 
 "Day is critical," Rob acknowledged grudg- 
 ingly. " I 've come in for a share of it, myself, 
 sometimes. What now ? " 
 
 " Us, " Janet made terse answer. 
 
 " Meaning ? " Rob inquired. 
 
 "Us. All of us here." 
 
 " Leslies, or here in the library ? " 
 
 Janet laughed scornfully. 
 
 "Day never would criticize you," she said, and 
 there was a slightly invidious accent upon the 
 pronoun. 
 
 " Don't be too sure. Why not ? "
 
 132 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "You 're an American." 
 
 " Glory be ! " Rob observed piously, but, as it 
 proved, with injudicious fervour. 
 
 Janet flounced forward and put her elbows on 
 her knees. 
 
 "There you go! You're all just alike," she 
 burst out hotly. 
 
 For a moment, Rob eyed her askance. Then 
 he leaned back and clasped his hands at the nape 
 of his neck. 
 
 "Feelings ache anywhere, Janet?" he queried 
 composedly. 
 
 Up to that hour, Rob Argyle had never seen 
 Janet, when she was really roused; he had no 
 notion how far her irritation would go. Ac- 
 cordingly, he had made no effort to allay her ris- 
 ing wrath ; and now he quailed before the sudden 
 fire of anger that blazed up in her brown eyes. 
 
 "Yes," she said shortly. "They do. What is 
 more, you are responsible for it, you and Day. I 
 can't see what you should come here for, when you 
 don't like us any better. " 
 
 "Business," Rob murmured, almost too low for 
 Janet's ears. 
 
 " Then you 've no business to slander us, when 
 you get here," she retorted. "If you take the 
 bread and butter we give you, you 've no right 
 to talk against us, after you 've eaten it "
 
 IN QUEBEC 133 
 
 Janet's words were wholly figurative. Never- 
 theless, Rob made the blunder of interpreting 
 them literally, blundered in his very perturba- 
 tion, for it was beginning to dawn upon him 
 that the storm within was becoming quite as 
 fierce as the storm without. 
 
 " But, Janet, nobody could find any fault with 
 the grub," he said hastily. "Both your mother 
 and Marie are capital cooks." 
 
 She raised her head and faced him haughtily. 
 
 " Who said they were not ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Nobody. At least I thought Day " he 
 faltered. 
 
 " Day ! " An echo of scorn was in her voice. 
 "And so she has been complaining of the food, 
 too ? " 
 
 Rob looked stunned by the accusation in her 
 tone. 
 
 " But I thought you said " 
 
 Impatiently she tapped her foot on the carpet. 
 The fact that inadvertently she had blundered into 
 a quarrel with one of her chiefest friends merely 
 increased her fractiousness. 
 
 "Let's not talk about it," she said shortly. 
 " We only disagree. " 
 
 Turning, Rob faced her steadily, a world of 
 trouble in his blue eyes. 
 
 " Look here, Janet, what is all this fuss about, 
 anyhow ? " he asked directly.
 
 134 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Oh, nothing. It is probably all my fault." 
 
 " That 's nonsense. One person alone never 
 kicks up a row like this," Rob said firmly. "If 
 I 've done it, I 'm sorry. If not, who has ? " 
 
 For some strange cause which lurked in the 
 depths of her own conscience, his kindly voice, 
 his steady eyes, his willingness to take his own 
 fair share of blame only irritated Janet so much 
 the more. Or was it that the irritation was 
 directed against herself alone, and only wreaked 
 itself upon Rob as upon the nearest victim ? 
 
 " I told you before who had done it. It 's you 
 and Day." 
 
 " What have we done ? " Rob asked in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "Criticized us Canadians." 
 
 Rob's amazement increased. 
 
 "When? How? I have n't." 
 
 "You have. You do it, all the time. You 
 say things, and so does Day; and then you look 
 at each other and laugh. " 
 
 Rob felt his own temper going. He caught fast 
 hold of one corner of it. 
 
 "What sort of things?" 
 
 Janet had risen now, and stood looking down 
 at him, as he still sat in the wide, deep window 
 casement. Even in his vexation, Rob was boy 
 enough to be aware that never had she looked
 
 IN QUEBEC 135 
 
 better than now, with the scarlet flush in her 
 cheeks, the angry light blazing in her eyes. 
 
 " All sorts, " she made vehement answer. 
 
 " What ? " he demanded no less vehemently. 
 " It 's not fair to hint and dodge, Janet. Speak 
 out." 
 
 "You said we took ourselves too much in 
 earnest." 
 
 "Well, you do." 
 
 "You said it was a regular Sleepy Hollow." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Day criticizes the clothes of the people she 
 meets on the terrace." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You make fun of our little street cars." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You told Day, only yesterday, that you 
 couldn't find a this-year necktie in any of the 
 shops. " 
 
 "I could n't." 
 
 Janet's exasperation hoiled over. 
 
 " Well, you need n't have told of it at the 
 dinner table. How do you suppose it made us 
 feel ? " 
 
 Again Rob's temper lost itself in a sea of 
 amazement. 
 
 "But you don't keep the shops." 
 
 "No; but my people do."
 
 136 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Oh. Honestly, I beg your pardon," Rob said 
 contritely. " The name and all how could I 
 tell ? " 
 
 Again he had blundered. He knew it by the 
 sudden lifting of her resolute little chin. 
 
 "That will do, Rob Argyle! " she said crisply. 
 " You need n't imply that my family are in trade." 
 
 " But you said your people " 
 
 " And I meant my people. I meant us Cana- 
 dians." 
 
 This time, Rob lost his temper utterly. 
 
 "Hang it all, Janet, it would puzzle a Phila- 
 delphia lawyer to know what it is you really do 
 mean," he said sharply. 
 
 She had turned away. At his words and his 
 unexpected tone, she faced about Even then, in 
 the height of her anger, she felt a queer little tug 
 at her heart, as she saw him stoop for his stick 
 and then rise with the stiffness which still re- 
 mained from his recent fall. Then she hardened 
 her heart and, with it, her voice. 
 
 "You want to know what I mean ? Well, I '11 
 tell you, and I hope you '11 remember it. We are 
 Canadians here, not Americans. We have our 
 Canadian ways, and we like them. We are n't 
 big and busy and rushing like your New York. 
 We may not be so fashionable ; we may wear our 
 clothes a little longer and not have so many of
 
 IN QUEBEC 137 
 
 them. We may not have such wide streets, nor 
 such long cars in them. We may not be the least 
 bit like the people you have been used to meeting 
 in New York. We don't care, if we are n't. If 
 we 'd been meant to be just like New York, we 
 should probably have grown just as big and busy 
 and fashionable. We are n't. We 're not New 
 York, but Canada; and we are proud of being 
 Canadians and of taking ourselves in earnest. If 
 you don't like us, you can stay at home. For my 
 part, I wish you would." 
 
 All the pent-up nervous energy brought on by 
 the shock of her father's sudden death, by the 
 need of adjusting her girlish plans to fit their 
 changed conditions, by the daily and hourly wear 
 and tear of work and worry, of petty snubs and 
 open rudenesses : all this was pouring forth upon 
 the tide of her own words. And, under all her 
 excitement, she fully realized whither it was 
 carrying her, realized it and regretted it. Never- 
 theless, for the moment, she seemed to herself 
 powerless to stem the tide of her own anger. 
 
 Rob's next words, however, were somewhat of 
 a check. 
 
 " Do you truly mean that, Janet ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do," she snapped, wholly resolved 
 upon sticking to her guns, now that they really 
 had gone into action.
 
 138 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 For a moment, as they stood there face to 
 face, Rob looked at her steadily. His eyes 
 alone showed his trouble. His lips were firm, 
 although a whitish ring around them betrayed 
 the fact that, heretofore, his life had been singu- 
 larly free from scenes like this. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said then. 
 
 " Sorry for what ? That you don't like us ? " 
 
 "But I do like you, Janet," he interposed. 
 
 "Yes, when I amuse you. That doesn't keep 
 you from making fun of us, behind our backs, 
 though. " 
 
 And then Rob's anger blazed. 
 
 "Janet Leslie, I '11 thank you to remember that 
 I 'm neither a sneak nor a cad," he said, and never 
 before in his sixteen years of life had Rob Argyle 
 used that tone to girl or woman. Then the train- 
 ing of generations prevailed, and he checked him- 
 self. He turned to the window, and bent down 
 to pick up the magazine which had fallen to the 
 floor. 
 
 Slight as was the act, he was conscious of per- 
 forming it stiffly, clumsily, and it was a moment 
 before he was upright once more. As he finally 
 straightened up to face Janet again, the clang of 
 the doorknob told him that Janet had left the 
 library and shut the door behind her.
 
 IN QUEBEC 139 
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 THE clang of the knob brought Rob to his 
 senses, brought him to a swift realization 
 that he must not let Janet escape him like this. 
 Since his infantine squabbles with Day, his life 
 had been uncommonly free from quarrels of any 
 sort. Nevertheless, he was quick to know that, 
 between friends such as he and Janet had been, 
 every minute that a misunderstanding is pro- 
 longed, increases by tenfold the difficulty of 
 breaking it. Rob's own irritation had been 
 short-lived, the irritation of a mastiff when a 
 terrier nips at his ears. Janet had been cross, 
 off her nerve. Possibly she was not feeling well, 
 or something had gone wrong at home, that morn- 
 ing. Anyway, he could not afford to quarrel with 
 the girl ; they had been too good friends for that. 
 As fast as his lame leg would let him, Rob 
 hobbled across to the door, opened the door and 
 peered over the rail into the hall beneath. 
 "Janet! " he said to the silence. "Oh, Janet! " 
 But the silence vouchsafed no answer.
 
 140 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 For a moment longer, he waited there in the 
 chilly hall. It seemed incredible to him that 
 Janet could have escaped. Then he remem- 
 bered that he was not so quick of motion as 
 he had been, and he shrugged his shoulders. 
 Meanwhile, the air of the hall was as chilly as 
 the silence. He returned to the library and 
 put on his coat and hat. 
 
 "Party 's over," he said whimsically to him- 
 self, as he turned up his collar about his cars. 
 "I may as well be starting for home." Then, 
 as he glanced out the window by his side, he 
 added, "Considering all things and the weather, 
 I wish I were at home now." Then slowly, lag- 
 gingly, he went down the stairs and out into the 
 snow-filled air of the street 
 
 For a time, he was so much dazed by Janet's 
 recent display of mental pyrotechnics that he took 
 no heed of the fact that the rails of the streetcar 
 track were buried beneath an unbroken heap of 
 snow. He merely stood there on the curb, his 
 shoulders shrugged together and his back to the 
 storm, while he beguiled the period of waiting for 
 a car by wondering what in thunder he had done 
 to put Janet's back up, and what in thunder her 
 back was up for, anyway. Then a sudden and 
 most violent gust of wind, swirling a handful of 
 flakes down the nape of his neck, roused him to
 
 IN QUEBEC 141 
 
 the point of discovering that the car was unreas- 
 onably long in coming, and that the marrow of 
 his bones was being chilled by its delay. 
 
 "I may as well go inside the door and wait, 
 though they 'd never hear me call, the wind 
 makes such an infernal row," he said to him- 
 self, with a backward, homesick glance over his 
 shoulder at the yellow walls of Morrin College. 
 Then his glance sought the track. "By Jove," 
 he added ; " do you believe the cars have stopped 
 running ? " 
 
 Again and more thoughtfully he peered through 
 the falling flakes, hoping to see some break in the 
 smooth white level of the street, some sign to 
 show that a car had passed the corner within the 
 last half hour. The white level was unscarred ; 
 no distant hum marked the approach of car or 
 sweeper, and the wind was rising with every 
 moment. Rob whistled to himself. 
 
 "Oh, come now," he said aloud. "Here's a 
 mess for a poor football cripple ! What 's doing 
 now ? " 
 
 The roar of the storm was his only answer, and 
 Rob was forced to set his own wits to work to 
 answer the question. 
 
 Swiftly he vetoed the idea of going back into 
 the library. In such a storm as this, there was 
 scanty chance that the librarian would return.
 
 142 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 No telling how long he might have to stay there, 
 awaiting succour. And, if- the fires went low ? 
 And, besides, he would need things to eat. 
 Canadian beef might be tough; but, at least, it 
 was preferable to book bindings. It was plain no 
 car was coming. He could telephone for a cab, 
 if he only knew where he could find a telephone. 
 He tried to study the skyline, in the hope of dis- 
 covering some friendly wire branching into a 
 house near by; but the snowflakes, veiling the 
 air, set his eyes to tingling with their impact 
 and then, discovering the opening in the front 
 of his coat collar, sought a watery grave in the 
 warm recesses of his throat. He gasped a little, 
 as he gave up the attempt and tucked his chin 
 down in his collar again. 
 
 "No go," he said then. "Well, all right. 
 I '11 have to trip it on the light, fantastic toe. 
 Glad my mother is n't here, to hold up her hands 
 in terror for her first-born son. She 'd throw a 
 fit, if she knew what I am doing." And, pulling 
 his hat still lower over his eyes, he started for the 
 Ursule Street corner. 
 
 Janet, all this time, was sitting enthroned on a 
 dusty heap of Mounted Police reports, waiting for 
 Rob to get out of the way. Thoroughly ashamed 
 of herself by now, she had no wish to meet his 
 keen blue eyes until the memory of her recent bad
 
 IN QUEBEC 143 
 
 temper had had a chance to blunt itself a little. 
 Her earlier disagreement with Day had been but 
 a summer squall in comparison with the storm of 
 her battle with Rob. And Rob, of late, had been 
 walking straight into the king-row of her chiefest 
 friends and cronies. Janet shook her head for- 
 lornly, as she recalled the glint in his blue eyes 
 and the tawny red which now and then showed 
 itself, when the sunlight struck across his yellow 
 hair. She had been altogether abominable; she 
 knew it now. Her penitence came as suddenly as 
 her wrath had done. It was less sound, perhaps, 
 for as yet she was not quite ready to speak out 
 and tell how truly sorry she was. Instead of 
 that, when Rob's opening the door above had 
 caught her at the foot of the stairs, she had 
 dodged away, out of his sight. Then, fearful 
 of his following her, she noiselessly pushed open 
 a door which chanced to be unlatched, crossed 
 the threshold and, still noiselessly, closed the 
 door behind her. The next moment, she found 
 herself safe from pursuit, in one of the library 
 vaults. Rob would probably start for home now. 
 She would wait there, until he had had time to 
 get safely out of the way. Then she would betake 
 herself home by another path. She would make 
 herself late for lunch; and, by dinner time, the 
 whole fray would have passed into oblivion, and
 
 144 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 she and Rob, under the combined eyes of their 
 two families, would meet as if nothing unusual 
 had occurred. 
 
 Bravely as she gave herself this assurance, 
 however, in her secret heart she was conscious 
 of misgivings. Suddenly and for no assignable 
 cause, she had been volcanic. Under such an 
 assault, even a worm would have turned, and 
 Rob Argyle was no worm. It might be that 
 his forgiveness would be slow in coining. At 
 least, though, he was too much the gentleman 
 to show his open hostility, and Janet knew his 
 code well enough to be sure he would never tell 
 tales to anyone but Day. The worst he could do, 
 would be to let her severely alone. Janet sought 
 to extract from that surety what lean consolation 
 she could. And, after all, both he and Day did 
 turn up their noses at Quebec. Only the night 
 before, Day had made irreverent comment upon 
 some newly-arrived wedding cards. To Janet's 
 loyal mind, comparisons were wholly odious, save 
 when the balance of credit was obviously upon the 
 side of her own city. Still, viewed in perspec- 
 tive, a haughty disdain would have been a better 
 rebuke than any amount of dudgeon. Besides, 
 she was not altogether sure, now it was all 
 over, that Rob ought to have been held respon- 
 sible for the utterances of his sister.
 
 /AT QUEBEC 145 
 
 In the intervals of her musings, she listened 
 intently for the sound of Rob's halting step upon 
 the stairs. The vault was chilly, and she had no 
 wish to linger in it longer than was absolutely 
 necessary. The roar of the storm, however, cut 
 out all other sounds, and, measured only by its 
 fitful gusts, she found it impossible to make any 
 reckoning of time. She resolved to wait a little 
 longer. Any physical discomfort was preferable 
 to the ignominy of throwing open the door and 
 stepping out just in season to face Rob, as he 
 came slowly down the stairs. She could fancy 
 the mirth which would come into his eyes as he 
 met her, and her cheeks grew hot at the thought. 
 Rather than that, she would stay in the vaults 
 until the crack of doom. 
 
 Restlessly she rose and began to explore her 
 narrow quarters, moved less by curiosity than 
 by the chill of the place. Long decades back, 
 the building had been the old prison; and Janet 
 found herself now in what had been the outer 
 court which gave access to the solitary cells. 
 One cell was now given up to the furnace ; an- 
 other to a ragged pile of blue-bound government 
 reports, while the court itself was partly filled 
 with coal and lighted but dimly by one window 
 at its farther end. And the base of the window, 
 
 sunk below the level of the ground beyond, was 
 
 10
 
 146 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 already covered with a light, white heap of snow. 
 Janet crossed to the window and peered out, 
 shielding her eyes with her hand, the while, as 
 if to ward off the whirling flakes which clicked 
 ceaselessly against the panes. Then she gave a 
 little shiver of disgust. Born and bred in a land 
 where winter attains its full perfection, a storm 
 even such as that held no terrors for her. Her 
 disgust was all for the lack of foresight which 
 had led her to come out with neither umbrella 
 nor overstockings, and arrayed in her best felt 
 hat. 
 
 Impatiently she turned away from the window. 
 It was stupid and dusty and cold in there. Rob 
 must be gone by now. She had been in there for 
 ages, and not even his stiff leg could consume such 
 an amount of time in taking him out of the build- 
 ing. Anyway, she would risk it. She could dodge 
 back again out of sight, if she heard him coming. 
 Recklessly she crossed the room again and laid 
 her hand upon the knob of the door. 
 
 Again and again she tried to turn the knob, 
 twisting her slender wrists until they ached, 
 throwing her light weight against the massy 
 door and, the while, making little impatient 
 groans of baffled energy. At last she aban- 
 doned the attempt, abandoned, too, the pride 
 which heretofore had kept her in silent hiding.
 
 IN QUEBEC 147 
 
 The dusty old vault echoed with her calls for 
 help. The roar of the storm, drowning her 
 cries, mocked her with its fury just as, a mo- 
 ment before, the metal bar of a spring lock had 
 made mockery of her futile girlish strength. 
 Alone in the vault of the ancient prison, Janet 
 Leslie was herself a prisoner, and the storm 
 was the jailer who saw to it that her outcries 
 should be unavailing. 
 
 Luncheon hour, that noon, found the Leslie 
 house in a state of wild confusion. The mid- 
 day gun, almost inaudible in the storm, had 
 boomed out over the terrace before Rob Argyle, 
 coated with snow from head to heel, had strug- 
 gled around the corner of Ursule Street into the 
 boisterous tunnel of Saint Louis. Twice he had 
 slipped and fallen in the snow; three times, 
 floundering along through the irregular drifts, 
 he had wandered off the board sidewalk into 
 the gutter. Tired, cold and aching in every 
 joint and muscle, he reached his own front 
 steps and, too chilled to seek his latchkey, rang 
 the bell 
 
 Day, passing through the hall, glanced up at 
 the opening door. With a cry which summoned 
 her mother to the hall, she dashed forward and 
 dragged her brother into the house. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the case was rather serious.
 
 148 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 As a matter of course, the three women made the 
 most of it, and Rob was rubbed and dosed and 
 packed into bed between hot blankets, before he 
 was allowed to tell his tale. When at last he 
 did tell it, it was brief. 
 
 "The blasted cars had stopped running, and I 
 had to walk home," was all the account of his 
 adventures that he deigned to give, and it was 
 not until some days later and by way of a friend 
 living on Sainte Ursule Street that Mrs. Leslie 
 knew how full of suffering that brief walk must 
 have been. 
 
 Two hours later, the house had regained its 
 wonted calm, and Rob, his inner man parboiled 
 with scalding hot tea and his outer man swathed 
 in liniment, was beginning to regain his sense of 
 humour. His mother, worn out with the sudden 
 alarm, had retired to her own room for a nap, 
 and Day, a bit of sewing in her idle hands, sat 
 curled up in Rob's arm-chair, her feet under her, 
 and her head pillowed comfortably against the 
 angle of one of its wide arms. 
 
 "I wonder where Janet is," she said suddenly. 
 
 Rob laughed. 
 
 "In cold storage, we '11 hope." 
 
 Day rarely needed explanations. Now her re- 
 sponse came swiftly. 
 
 " You caught it, too ? "
 
 IN QUEBEC 149 
 
 Rob nodded, as he freed his lips from a mouth- 
 ful of blanket. 
 
 "And the mischief of it is," he added; "I 
 have n't the ghost of an idea what it was all 
 about." 
 
 Day shook her head thoughtfully. 
 
 " Nor I. I suppose that is the way with us 
 girls. Something goes wrong with us, and then 
 we strike fire on the first thing that comes. I 
 thought Janet was too quiet to be so spunky, 
 though. Did you have a bad time of it ? " 
 
 Rob turned evasive. 
 
 "It might have been worse, I suppose. How- 
 ever, I had n't much to judge by. As a rule, 
 Day, you don't make a row about things. " 
 
 Something in his tone pleased her. Her eyes 
 showed it, though her answer was careless. 
 
 "Possibly I don't care enough about things, in 
 the first place." 
 
 "Nor people ? " he asked. 
 
 " It depends on the person, " she made elusive 
 reply. 
 
 For a moment, Rob lay staring up at her 
 thoughtfully. She was good to look at, this 
 dainty young sister of his; and, for the passing 
 hour, an unwonted mood of gentleness was upon 
 her. Even in his exhaustion of the hour before, 
 Rob had taken swift heed of her little cry of alarm
 
 150 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 as she had caught sight of him on the threshold, 
 of the deft gentleness with which she had helped 
 him rid himself of hat and coat and overshoes. 
 Afterwards, in the bustle of getting him warmed 
 and anointed with liniments, she had been swift 
 to see, efficient to act. Her brown eyes, mean- 
 while, had been only merry ; and Rob had found 
 her carefree expression a welcome contrast to the 
 manifest alarm of his mother. The past year's 
 experience had taught him to recognize the whole 
 gamut of feelings that centered in his leg. He was 
 perfectly convinced that the morning's adventure 
 had wrought no serious harm. His mother, 
 though, refused to be convinced. She looked 
 worried, and talked about the doctor. Day, on 
 the other hand, did what she could to allay his 
 present aches; then she settled herself beside 
 him, prepared to talk over the situation or re- 
 main silent, as might suit his mood. To Day's 
 mind, Rob had never shown himself more at- 
 tractive than in the stoic fashion in which he 
 accepted both discomfort and dosing, accepted 
 them and rose superior to them in all their igno- 
 miny. Her last pat on the blanket had been 
 aimed straight down upon Rob's muscular shoul- 
 der, and she had smiled squarely into his eyes, as 
 she asked, 
 
 "Comfy, Rob?"
 
 IN QUEBEC 151 
 
 Motionless as a cocoon, he had nodded up at 
 her gayly. 
 
 "Can't help it, Day, with such a jolly little 
 nurse. What now ? " 
 
 "My work," she said. "I'll be back in a 
 minute." 
 
 And Rob found himself counting the time, until 
 her dark red frock reappeared around the corner 
 of the doorway. 
 
 Both Rob and Day were surprised, when the 
 falling twilight drove Day out of her chair to 
 turn on the electric lights, surprised again when 
 the bell for dinner sounded in the hall below. 
 Then reluctantly Day rose to her feet. 
 
 "I '11 bring yours up, myself," she said. "You 
 don't want Marie upsetting things all over you. 
 I '11 gobble mine, and then come up and feed 
 you yours." 
 
 "No hurry, Day." 
 
 She made a little grimace of disgust. 
 
 " Remember, I have no especial wish to sit long 
 at the family board," she reminded him. "Janet 
 may throw a potato at me, for anything I know to 
 the contrary." 
 
 Rob laughed unfeelingly. 
 
 " Is n't she over her grouch yet ? " 
 
 Day shrugged her shoulders after a fashion 
 which unconsciously she had picked up of late. 
 It was less elegant than expressive.
 
 152 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "How should I know ? I 've not seen her since 
 just after breakfast. Then I went out of the room 
 and left her talking. For all I know, she may be 
 talking still. Be a good boy, and I '11 be back 
 soon with your dinner." And, with a mocking, 
 mischievous gesture, she was gone. 
 
 Ten minutes later, she came back, bringing the 
 tray, bringing, too, exciting news. 
 
 "Janet 's not back yet, and her mother is wor- 
 ried to pieces," she proclaimed. 
 
 Rob sat up in bed and reached for his dressing 
 gown. 
 
 " Steady with the tray ! " he protested. " I 
 don't care to have my fish swim off on a wave 
 of soup. Where has Janet gone ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows. She just has n't come. That 's 
 the trouble." 
 
 Rob whistled. 
 
 "That 's bad. What do they think is the mat- 
 ter ? " he asked. 
 
 Day balanced the tray on his knees, then settled 
 herself on the edge of the bed. 
 
 "They don't think," she said shortly. "They 
 have lost their heads utterly and their brains 
 have turned into cotton wool. Mrs. Leslie is 
 sure she is snowed up in the street; but I don't 
 worry about thai She 'd thaw herself out, unless 
 she has cooled off a good deal since morning."
 
 IN QUEBEC 153 
 
 " Where is Ronald ? " 
 
 "Tearing about like a hen with its head cut 
 off. You 'd think Janet was a year-old baby, by 
 the way he goes on. For goodness' sake, Rob, if 
 I ever do get lost, do try to conduct yourself like 
 a sane being. " 
 
 Rob waved his soup spoon at her. 
 
 "If you ever do get lost, young woman, I'll 
 look for you at the nearest spot where they sell 
 ice cream soda," he responded. 
 
 "You '11 have to go a good long way to do it," 
 she retorted, as she took possession of his empty 
 plate. "Up here, these people do nothing but 
 guzzle tea. But how did you happen to mention 
 ice cream soda ? That was the rock we split on, 
 this morning." 
 
 Rob picked up his knife and fork. 
 
 "I might have known," he murmured. 
 
 "Don't laugh. You know you like it, your- 
 self. But you should see Ronald. He has been 
 telephoning all over town, from the Hotel Dieu 
 to the jail. In the intervals of his telephoning, 
 he rushes to the front door and stares up and 
 down the street. The house is as cold as a 
 barn. I do believe here 's Ronald now," she 
 added, as a short, sharp knock sounded upon 
 the door. 
 
 Ronald entered abruptly, abruptly cast his
 
 154 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 question at the comfortable-looking pair on the 
 bed. 
 
 " Have, either of you seen Janet ? " 
 
 "Not since morning. Rob is better, thank 
 you," Day responded calmly. 
 
 Ronald, in all his alarm, looked puzzled. 
 
 " Of course. Why not ? " 
 
 "Nothing; only I thought perhaps you had for- 
 gotten to ask," Day made demure response. 
 
 "Shut up, Day!" Rob said good-naturedly. 
 " Can't you see that Ronald has n't any time to 
 fuss with us ? " 
 
 Ronald gave a quick, excited nod. 
 
 "Not with Janet missing. When did you say 
 you saw her ? " 
 
 "This morning." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "In the dining-room, after breakfast." Day 
 slid off the edge of the bed and went to get the 
 plate of fruit she had left on the table. 
 
 " That 's no use. My mother saw her after that. 
 She was just putting on her hat in the hall." 
 
 "I saw her in the library," Rob suggested. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " About eleven. " 
 
 " Why did n't you say so sooner ? " Ronald in- 
 quired, with a crisp ungraciousness of which he 
 was wholly unaware.
 
 IN QUEBEC 155 
 
 " Because I had no idea that counted. " 
 
 " Of course it counted. You knew she had n't 
 been home since then." 
 
 Rob was in the peaceable mood which follows 
 a good dinner. Nevertheless, he resented being 
 assaulted and battered by Ronald's tongue. A 
 bunch of grapes dangling in his hand, he leaned 
 back at his ease and made careless answer, 
 
 "No; I can't say I did. You see, I got busy 
 on my own account, and did n't keep track of 
 Janet's doings." 
 
 Ronald walked to the window and stared out 
 into the street, then walked back again. His 
 code of honour forbade his taking vengeance on 
 a fellow in bed. Nevertheless, he would have 
 relished the idea of pitching Rob, bed and all, 
 out into the snowy streets. 
 
 " She was at the library ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Came away before you did ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You saw her go ? " 
 
 Rob gave an irrepressible chuckle. 
 
 "I heard her bang the door behind her." 
 
 The dark red flush mounted across Ronald's 
 face and dyed the roots of his hair. He con- 
 trolled himself, however. 
 
 " How soon did you follow her ? "
 
 156 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " As soon as I could get my coat on. " 
 
 " Which way did her tracks turn ? " 
 
 Rob pondered, for a moment. 
 
 "I don't remember seeing any tracks." 
 
 " You must have seen them. " 
 
 " N no. Hold on, though ! " Rob straightened 
 up abruptly. " I do remember noticing that the 
 snow on the steps made a straight, smooth slant 
 down to the walk. It would n't have done that, 
 if there had been any tracks in " 
 
 But already Ronald was half way across the floor. 
 
 "Confound you for not saying it sooner!" he 
 said curtly. "Then of course she's in the 
 building." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Ronald halted on the threshold. 
 
 " Because she had n't come out." 
 
 "Not then. She may have come later, though." 
 
 "Sloane went in at twelve. There was only 
 one trail out, at that time. We supposed it 
 was Janet's. If you had only spoken earlier, 
 you might have saved us all this trouble." 
 
 Rob, the grapes still dangling from his fingers, 
 listened until the sound of Ronald's steps died 
 away into silence. Then he settled himself at 
 his ease. 
 
 "Well," he observed. "I do like pretty 
 manners. "
 
 IN QUEBEC 157 
 
 "I like the way he jumps to conclusions," Day 
 responded. " He 's like a mad bull, when he 
 thinks there's something wrong with Janet." 
 
 "Poor little soul! It would be hard lines, if 
 she 'd been shut up somewhere in that building, 
 a day like this. I can't see why Sloane did n't 
 find her." 
 
 "No matter. It will give her time to think of 
 her sins," Day said tartly. 
 
 Rob shook his head. 
 
 "Rather more than she needs. Janet isn't 
 usually a vixen." Then his compassion changed 
 to mirth, as he added, " Ronald's progress will be 
 easy, for he will set the snow on fire before him, 
 if he dashes through it as he went downstairs. " 
 
 Ronald, meanwhile, was making all speed to 
 the library. Logic or no logic, Rob's words 
 had convinced him that Janet was somewhere 
 shut up in the building. The impression grew 
 upon him, as he floundered through the half- 
 cleared streets, mounted the steps and hailed 
 the janitor whom he had telephoned to meet 
 him. 
 
 " It 's I, Leslie. For heaven's sake, open the 
 door!" 
 
 The heavy door swung open with a clang. The 
 clang was answered by a shrill hail. 
 
 " Come ! Come quick and let me out ! "
 
 158 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Janet!" Ronald's voice went up an octave. 
 " Where are you ? " 
 
 A thudding of fists on a door beneath the stairs 
 showed him the direction he should take, showed 
 him, too, that Janet's imprisonment had in no 
 sense told upon her strength. 
 
 "Ronald I It's you I I 'm in the coalbin beside 
 the furnace. Let me out, quick ! It 's so dark, 
 and I'm so hungry." And, as the door opened, 
 she sprang out to his encircling arms. 
 
 " How in the world ? " 
 
 And Janet told him, told him with a prolixity 
 of detail which completely concealed the main 
 cause of her retirement, while she nestled in his 
 strong arms and rubbed her crocky cheek against 
 his own. 
 
 A long hour later, Ronald mounted the stairs 
 at home. His anxiety at rest, his conscience be- 
 came uncomfortably alert, and his conscience was 
 sending him in search of Rob. To his disappoint- 
 ment, Rob's door was closed. Across the hall, 
 Day's door stood open, and Day sat reading just 
 inside the door. She looked up, as Ronald's step 
 sounded on the stairs, and her face was severe. 
 
 " Is Rob " Ronald began hesitatingly. 
 
 " Rob has gone to bed. " 
 
 " Is he asleep ? " 
 
 " I hope so. He was very tired and a good deal
 
 IN QUEBEC 159 
 
 worried. I hope he won't be disturbed," Day said 
 sedately. 
 
 "Hang it, Day; don't be so hard on a fellow! " 
 Ronald blurted out. " I know I was beastly rude 
 to Rob; but I was half-wild about Janet, and 
 didn't mind what I was saying." 
 
 And Day made serene reply, 
 
 "Of course. We were worried about Rob, too, 
 out in all that storm. But let *s hope the poor 
 fellow is asleep. Perhaps we 'd better not stand 
 here, talking. Good night." And she closed 
 her door with every manifestation of anxious 
 care. 
 
 Meanwhile, the "poor fellow," prostrate upon 
 his pillow, was chuckling with ill-suppressed 
 glee. 
 
 " Poor old Ronald ! " he said to his enfolding 
 blanket. " He 's getting his punishment now. 
 There was no sense in his kicking up such an 
 unmannerly sort of row, and 1 don't know as I 
 blame Day for taking it out of him a little. 
 Still, she 'd best leave a few pieces for Janet to 
 pick up and put together. After all, the fellow 
 Ms n't all bad." And, his mental amendments 
 made, he turned over on the other side and 
 drifted off into dreamland.
 
 160 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 A TEMPEST in a teapot is a small thing, 
 unless it ends with the teapot's boiling 
 over and putting out the fire. In the case of 
 the newly-kindled friendship between the young 
 Leslies and the young Argyles, this narrowly 
 escaped occurring. Civil war within the meagre 
 limits of a single house is an impossible state of 
 things; yet, in the days which followed the two 
 storms, Janet's and that of the elements, the 
 Leslie house achieved the impossible. In a sense, 
 circumstances helped on the achievement. 
 
 On the night following the storm, the four 
 young people went to bed in four wholly dis- 
 tinct moods. Janet was ill at ease, anxious 
 about Rob, sturdily determined to brave it out 
 and conceal both emotions. Ronald was peni- 
 tent; Day was impenitent, and Rob was filled 
 with an amused disgust with the whole situa- 
 tion. Had the four of them met at breakfast, 
 the air would have cleared. Janet, however, 
 was in her room with a most prosaic cold in
 
 IN QUEBEC 161 
 
 her head. Day overslept herself, and Rob was 
 under bonds to lie still. As result, Ronald break- 
 fasted alone with his mother. Then, when he 
 went up to see how Janet was feeling, his step 
 lagged a bit, outside of Rob's door. There was 
 no answering stir from within the room, however, 
 and he went on up the stairs. By dinner time, 
 the frost lay thick on the surface of the talk. 
 
 For four whole days, Rob was invisible. It 
 was the result of a compromise with his mother 
 whereby, if she would forego a doctor, he would 
 agree to captivity and the pungent aroma of lini- 
 ment. He rebelled the less at his captivity, 
 because walking was a painful operation just at 
 present, and because Day's accounts of the glacial 
 atmosphere below stairs failed to attract him, to 
 the point of making him repine at the thought of 
 being out of it all. 
 
 In the meantime, he and Day were fast becom- 
 ing the best possible chums. Day, on her dignity 
 by reason of Janet's outbreak and Ronald's curt 
 rudeness to her brother, had taken council with 
 her girlish mind and decided that the blame was 
 entirely theirs; that, moreover, the best way to 
 bring them to terms was to signify that her own 
 good times were complete without them. Ac- 
 cordingly, she took care to see them only at 
 
 their meals. Much of the remaining time she 
 
 11
 
 1G2 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 spent with Rob, moved thereto less by devotion 
 to Rob than by the desire to emphasize the dif- 
 ference in her attitude to the different members 
 of the household. When she did meet them, she 
 was perfectly polite, but in a frigid fashion that 
 was far more cutting than open discourtesy. In 
 return, Janet sniffed and said she did n't care. 
 Ronald, however, took it more seriously. He had 
 grown genuinely fond of Day, and he missed her 
 hearty, happy comradeship far more than he liked 
 to confess. 
 
 A good deal of this complex mingling of tem- 
 pers drifted up into Rob's room. He laughed at 
 Day's shrewd comments upon the existing order 
 of things; but, at the back of his brain, he was 
 decidedly of the impression that all four of them 
 deserved to be spanked and put to bed without 
 their suppers. Such a wholesale family jar was 
 neither dignified nor decorous. Volcanic in its 
 origin, it was reaching a point where nothing 
 short of an earthquake could break it up, and 
 Rob hated earthquakes. As a matter of course, 
 he had had no glimpse of Janet. Ronald, on two 
 occasions, had stopped at his door with a wholly 
 dutiful inquiry for his health. Rob's answer had 
 been soft ; but it had been coupled with a strong 
 desire to throw a footrest at Ronald and observe 
 the way he took it.
 
 IN QUEBEC 163 
 
 " Confound him ! He need n't put on his funeral 
 voice, when he talks to me," he had exploded to 
 Day, on the second of these occasions. " I 'm 
 mentally sound, if I can't do things. I wish 
 he 'd oil his boots and get the squeak out of 
 them, before he comes again." 
 
 In regard to Day's sudden access of devotion, 
 Rob had no hallucinations. He knew that her 
 motives were not unmixed. Nevertheless, he was 
 resolved to take his good times when he could get 
 them, and ask no questions. And they were good 
 times, too. More and more Rob was learning to 
 delight in his young sister. He liked her bright 
 self-reliance, her fun, her shrewd young judgment; 
 he liked her swift, sure motions ; he liked her pretty 
 clothes. All these details attracted him and won 
 his full approval. But when, now and then, one 
 of her rare, sweet moods of gentleness was upon 
 her, the liking yielded its place to a whole-souled 
 love such as only a healthy-minded boy can give. 
 As a rule, Day perched herself in the deep win- 
 dowseat and chattered nonsense by the yard. Now 
 and then, though, usually while the twilight was 
 darkening over the room, she left her windowseat 
 and came to sit on the floor at his side, her head 
 nestled against the chair and one slim arm rest- 
 ing across his knee. Arid Rob, his hand on her 
 shoulder, cuddled it a bit now and then, while
 
 164 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 the talk rambled on fitfully, or dropped into fitful 
 silence. It was always an unwelcome break, when 
 Marie came in with the tray. 
 
 At first, they had talked only of the present, of 
 the things they had already done, or still were 
 planning to do, that winter. Then by degrees 
 the talk went trailing back into the past when 
 Rob was delighted to find Day's memory as good 
 as his own for all the trifling details of their 
 childhood. Or it wandered on into the future, 
 and they surprised themselves and each other when 
 they found how far the plans of each were chang- 
 ing to include the other. And then, just before 
 Marie came in on the last night of Rob's captiv- 
 ity, some sudden mood led Rob to speak of the 
 way, all the previous winter and spring, he had 
 been conscious of missing the real Day out of his 
 life. And Day's only answer had been the lay- 
 ing her cheek upon her arm as it rested in its 
 usual place across Rob's knee. They both had 
 blinked a little, when Marie, without warning, 
 had switched on the electric light. 
 
 Once Rob was downstairs again, the situation 
 showed no signs of mending. For no assignable 
 cause, Ronald had clambered up on his dignity 
 and had hoisted up Janet with him. Rob was 
 swift to sec how insecurely they were poised, 
 and on what a tottering foundation; and he lost
 
 IN QUEBEC 165 
 
 no opportunity to upset their balance. It was 
 impossible to resent the bland good humour of 
 his conversation which showed an astounding 
 agility in skating out upon thin ice, and then 
 dodging backwards, just as the ice began to crack. 
 
 "Mrs. Leslie, what are we going to do with 
 those bad children of ours ? " Mrs. Argyle made 
 direct question, one night. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie shook her head. 
 
 "I wish I knew," she answered. 
 
 "Do you think we 'd better interfere ? " 
 
 "Sit down." Mrs. Leslie pushed forward a hos- 
 pitable-looking chair. "I really wish I knew," 
 she reiterated musingly. " What do you think ? " 
 
 Mrs. Argyle took possession of the chair, ar- 
 ranged herself at her ease, gave a prolonged 
 look at the coals in the grate, then, turning, 
 gave another prolonged look into the face of her 
 companion. 
 
 "I'm afraid of making it worse," she said 
 then. " Of course, for us looking on, it could n't 
 be much worse ; but it could be more permanent. 
 I don't want that. I 've watched your children 
 closely; I like to have Rob and Day with them. 
 I really think I have felt worse than anyone else 
 about the trouble." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie lifted her eyes from her work and 
 slightly shook her head. Like Mrs. Argyle, she
 
 166 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 too had been making her own observations, the 
 past two months. She liked the Argyle chil- 
 dren; more and more, also, she liked the Argyle 
 children's mother. Mrs. Argyle was not by any 
 means the wayward, superficial society woman 
 that Mrs. Leslie had judged her at first sight. 
 Living in one house, the two women had drifted 
 into no semblance of intimacy. Nevertheless, 
 they were conscious of a growing admiration, 
 each for the other. 
 
 "I suppose," Mrs. Argyle continued thought- 
 fully ; " the best thing for me to do, would be to 
 take the children into another home. Still, I 
 dislike the idea; it seems too much like running 
 away from a difficult situation. If you feel that 
 you can endure it a little longer, Mrs. Leslie," as 
 she spoke, she looked up once more; "I should 
 like to stay and face the matter out." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie's needle had unthreaded itself. It 
 was taking all her attention to thread it again, 
 and the droop of her head concealed the conster- 
 nation in her eyes. Boarders were not plenty 
 in Quebec at that season ; and one's coal bill and 
 one's account with the butcher must stand before 
 mere questions of injured dignity resulting from 
 childish tiffs and misunderstandings. Neverthe- 
 less, Mrs. Leslie's low voice was full of dignity, 
 as she answered,
 
 IN QUEBEC 167 
 
 "I should dislike to have you go away, Mrs. 
 Argyle." 
 
 Mrs. Argyle leaned back in her chair. 
 
 " I am glad. I dislike the thought of a change," 
 she said heartily. " We all like the dear old house. 
 And I think the children will come to terms in 
 time. Anyway, Rob has to go back to New York, 
 after the holidays. " 
 
 "To stay?" 
 
 " Only for a week or two. He was to have gone 
 in February ; but this last strain makes me a little 
 uneasy, and I 'd rather he went at once. We 've 
 compromised on the day after Christmas. He and 
 Day both wailed at the idea of being parted on 
 that day." 
 
 "What good times they have together!" Mrs. 
 Leslie said thoughtfully. " They seem peculiarly 
 intimate." 
 
 "No more so than Janet and Ronald. But 
 about this trouble: I could speak to the chil- 
 dren, Mrs. Leslie. Sometimes, I think I ought. 
 Still, there 's nothing I can put my finger on. 
 They are desperately polite to each other. Be- 
 sides, there is always the chance of changing 
 armed neutrality into open war. Rob has more 
 than a dash of red in his hair, and Day's temper 
 isn't of the most quiet sort. I really wish you 
 would advise me. It is so hard to act, when I
 
 168 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 have n't any notion of the cause of the fray, nor 
 where the first blame lies." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie looked up sharply. 
 
 " Don't you know, either ? " she asked. 
 
 "No. Don't you?" 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "Has n't Ronald talked it over with you ? " 
 
 "Not he. Ronald thinks a good deal more 
 than he talks." 
 
 " But I thought you were so intimate. " 
 
 "So we are. Still, in a case like this, Ronald 
 shuts his mouth, all the more when Janet is in 
 it, too. But your children ? " 
 
 " Have never mentioned it ; that is, to me. Of 
 course, I know they talk it over together. Once 
 or twice, when I 've been in the next room, I have 
 caught just a word. " 
 
 "Why don't you ask them?" Mrs. Leslie 
 queried. 
 
 For a moment, Mrs. Arygle looked at her in 
 surprise. Then she said quietly, 
 
 " I 've never been used to teasing for the con- 
 fidence of my children. If I am the mother I 
 ought to be, they will tell me anything I ought 
 to know. For the rest, they have the same right 
 to their secrets that I have to mine." Then, smil- 
 ing, she rose and held out her hand. "The truth 
 is, Mrs. Leslie, I suspect this matter is some-
 
 IN QUEBEC 169 
 
 thing we are powerless to touch. If we can hold 
 our peace and keep our own heads level, time will 
 do the rest. Meanwhile," she laughed lightly; 
 "meanwhile, the peace commission will have to 
 adjourn, until it gathers up a few facts of the 
 case. At least, it is a comfort that you are not 
 longing to turn my quarrelsome children out of 
 your house." 
 
 Day, in the meantime, had been finding the 
 past week rather a drag. During Rob's impris- 
 onment, she had spent a large share of her time 
 with him. She had enjoyed him absolutely, had 
 almost regretted the ending of her monopoly of 
 his time and attention. Nevertheless, she already 
 was feeling the effects of her unwonted lack of 
 out-door exercise. Her girlish humour suffered; 
 she was languid, and, now and then, irritable. 
 At the end of a week of sitting about the house, 
 however, her mother interfered and ordered her 
 out into the snow-crisp air. It was then and for 
 the first time that Day suddenly came to a realiz- 
 ing sense of how much she missed the Leslies. It 
 was too cold for much driving. At best, Rob's 
 walks were of the briefest; and now they were 
 curtailed to the extent of the width of the side- 
 walk. Under such circumstances and other con- 
 ditions, Day would have thrown herself upon the 
 society of Janet and Ronald. Under the present
 
 170 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 conditions, she was driven to seek the alternative 
 of faring forth alone. 
 
 After one day when it seemed to her that she 
 was the only solitary person upon the length of 
 the Grande Alle"e, after a day when only her own 
 shadow kept her company upon the thronged and 
 sunshiny terrace, Day resolved to abandon those 
 two main pleasure grounds and betake herself to 
 the byroads where her lonesomeness would arouse 
 less comment. Accordingly, she formed the habit 
 of making a daily tour of the Ramparts, down 
 Palace Hill and up the Cote d'Abraham, not from 
 any especial interest in the antiquity of the route ; 
 but because it filled the allotted time her mother 
 had ordained for her exercise. To Day's present 
 frame of mind, it mattered nothing that Mont- 
 calm's house still stood upon the Ramparts; that 
 the Cote d'Abraham was the scene of the dis- 
 ordered retreat of the French Regulars from the 
 battlefield outside the city wall. It scarcely mat- 
 tered, even, that the distant Laurentides stood up 
 and out, a dark blue ring around the dazzling, 
 snow-heaped levels to the north and west of the 
 city. For the time being, the girl was heartily 
 sick and tired of Quebec and of all that it con- 
 tained. She longed for her own home city, for 
 her own home friends, for American food and for 
 the American sense of humour. Her father's busi-
 
 IN QUEBEC 171 
 
 ness interests were dragging themselves out inter- 
 minably ; and Mrs. Argyle, modern wife and mother 
 that she was, yet held to the old-fashioned notion 
 that, in so far as possible, a wife should keep in 
 touch with her husband. For the sake of that 
 notion, she was willing to put up with a winter 
 in the sleepy, foreign little city, on the chance 
 that now and then Mr. Arygle might be able to 
 spend a leisure day at home. Day, however, had 
 neither a husband nor a notion. With all her 
 heart, she envied Rob his dreaded trip to New 
 York. Nevertheless 
 
 She shook herself and glanced out over the dis- 
 tant hills. Nevertheless, given her choice between 
 the States and Rob, she would never hesitate. And 
 Rob was here, not in the States. The only trouble 
 was that there were no more Robs in the world. 
 
 " Oh, good morning. How do you do again ? " 
 
 Yielding to a sudden wave of despondency, Day 
 had halted on the bastion above Dambourges Hill, 
 and, her elbows on the wall and her chin on her 
 muff, she had stood long, staring out across the 
 gleaming flats beyond. She started abruptly, as 
 there came up to her ears the unmistakable voice 
 and accent of Sir George Porteous. 
 
 " Where are you ? " she demanded, when a hasty 
 glance had revealed the fact that both bastion and 
 hill were empty of straying Englishmen.
 
 172 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Here." The voice was minor and altogether 
 pitiful. It appeared to be disembodied, however. 
 It came from beneath ; but Day, craning her neck 
 over the wall, was totally at a loss to discover the 
 wrinkle-bordered lips from which that voice should 
 properly have come. 
 
 "Where is here f " she asked in amazement. 
 
 "Here. Where I am, you know." 
 
 " Where is that ? " 
 
 "On the steps." 
 
 Hurriedly Day crossed to the side of the bastion 
 and looked down. Up the steep flight of steps Sir 
 George Porteous was toiling painfully. His <>\vn 
 steps were impeded by one single snowshoe which, 
 dangling loosely by its thong, had worked around 
 until it lay on the top of his foot where it clat- 
 tered protestingly against the stairs. The other 
 snowshoe was in his hand; and his back was 
 coated thickly with hard-packed snow, save for 
 one point where a mire-encrusted shoulderblade 
 Jjore witness to an ungentle meeting with the 
 sunny roadway, a witness which was corrob- 
 orated by the unseemly condition of Sir George's 
 stiff black hat. 
 
 For an instant, Day held her breath in mingled 
 terror and hilarity. Step by step, Sir George 
 came stubbing towards her, his free foot first, fol- 
 lowed by its hampered comrade, and the arrival
 
 IN QUEBEC 173 
 
 of the second foot upon each stair was accom- 
 panied by a look of anxious doubt, a tentative 
 shifting of weight, a sinking to the level and a 
 deep sigh of satisfaction. At length, Day gained 
 control of her voice. 
 
 " Why don't you take off your shoe ? " she called 
 down, over the edge of the wall. 
 
 " I did n't need. It came. " 
 
 "Yes. But the other ?" 
 
 " The fellow tied it on too tight " And, lifting 
 his foot, shoe and all, Sir George clung to the rail 
 and gave a skittish little kick, in support of his 
 statement. According to the unreliable custom of 
 its kind, the snowshoe came off and went bounc- 
 ing and thudding down to the bottom of the steps. 
 Sir George, still on one leg and clasping the rail 
 with both scarlet-mittened hands, peered after it 
 ruefully. " Oh, by George ! " he said. Then, as 
 it came to rest not far from the foot of the hill, 
 he lifted up his voice. " Oh, down there ! Oh, 
 some fellow, please bring me my shoe!" And, 
 regardless of the fact that the hill was empty, 
 he sat himself down on the step and prepared to 
 await the return of his missing property. 
 
 " Why don't you sit on the other shoe ? " Day 
 suggested from above. 
 
 Without stirring otherwise, Sir George screwed 
 his head about, until he faced her.
 
 174 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Oh, I won't let that get away. I am holding 
 it quite fast. " 
 
 "Yes; but the steps are so cold," she urged. 
 
 " Of course. It 's the snow, you know. But the 
 snowshoe leaks, " he explained lucidly. " Have you 
 been away, since I saw you last ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Strange that I have n't seen you. You 
 always used to be about. Have you learned to 
 walk on snowshoes ? " 
 
 "Not yet. You must be very skilful, to attempt 
 such a hill as this," Day said politely. 
 
 "Oh, I found it was the only way, you know. 
 The man in the shop told me I 'd best go out 
 to the Cove Fields ; but I could n't seem to make 
 them walk on a level, so I hunted out the steep- 
 est spot I could find. I thought they 'd go all 
 right, once they were started." 
 
 "I see." Again Day's mirth threatened to 
 overwhelm her. "And did they?" 
 
 "They went all right. The only trouble was, 
 they would n't stop going, when I wanted. Took 
 the bits and bolted, you know. When they did 
 stop, one had come quite off." And Sir George 
 made an effort to rub his shoulderblade remi- 
 niscently. Then he added, "I think the fellow 
 could n't have known just how to tie them on." 
 
 "What fellow?"
 
 IN QUEBEC 175 
 
 Sir George stared up at her blankly. 
 
 " I 'm not sure. He did n't tell me his name. 
 The fellow at the top of the steps." 
 
 " Oh, I understand. You mean that somebody, 
 some stranger, helped you put them on ? " 
 
 " Yes. How else ? I could n't make them walk 
 all the way out from the hotel," Sir George ex- 
 plained testily. 
 
 Day gave him a comprehensive glance which 
 included both his injured hat and his damaged 
 shoulderblade. 
 
 "No; I should imagine not," she assented. 
 
 Sir George cast an uneasy eye down the hill. 
 
 "I wonder how I'll get my shoe," he said 
 helplessly. 
 
 "Go down and get it." Day's tone was un- 
 sympathetic. 
 
 " But I 've only just come up. I was down 
 there, when I saw you first. I didn't like to 
 call out, though, even when I knew it was you. 
 I was afraid you 'd jump and fall, you know. " 
 
 "Thank you." Day measured the height of the 
 four-foot wall with her eye. Then she buried 
 her face in her muff. "Excuse me. I was just 
 warming my nose," she said discursively at 
 length. 
 
 "How rummy! Don't you think my mittens 
 would be just as good ? "
 
 176 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "To warm my nose ? " Day queried blankly, for 
 Sir George's meaning was opaque to her. 
 
 " No ; for mine. It 's very cold. In fact, you 
 know, it 's very cold to be sitting here." Sir 
 George chafed the tip of his blue nose with one 
 scarlet mitten and then the other. "I bought 
 them at Renfrew's, when I got my shoes," he 
 added, with seeming irrelevance. Then he fell 
 to massaging his nose again. 
 
 For a long moment, Day once more sought the 
 shelter of her muff. Sir George's voice recalled 
 her. 
 
 "I say?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Oh, I say, I 've just come up this hill. It's 
 a real brute of a hill, and it 's quite knocked me 
 out. You 're quite fresh ; are n't you ? " 
 
 "Quite," Day assented, for, as yet, she had no 
 notion whither Sir George's fertile brain was 
 leading. 
 
 " That 's what I thought. You look it, you 
 know. And I 'm so very tired. Would you 
 mind just stepping down and bringing me my 
 shoe ? " 
 
 And Day went. She would have gone ten 
 times that distance, for the sake of carrying 
 home to Rob the story of her going. Sir George 
 watched her tranquilly as she went slipping and
 
 IN QUEBEC 177 
 
 sliding down the steep slope, crawling and clam- 
 bering up again. Breathless and with the shoe in 
 her hand, she reached his side. Smiling and with 
 his battered hat in his hand, he rose to greet her. 
 "Thank you so much," he said affably, as he 
 held out his unoccupied mitten for his missing 
 footgear. " I 'm sure you are very kind. When 
 you get your own shoes, let me know about it, 
 and we '11 go out for some walks together. You 'd 
 find it much safer, you know, than starting out to 
 walk alone." And, settling his hat on his head 
 with an anxious care for its balance, he clasped 
 a shoe under either arm and started up the 
 steps, leaving Day to follow or not, as she 
 might choose. 
 
 n
 
 178 JANET: HER WINTKH 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 " TT THERE now, Ronald ? " 
 
 V V Ronald, in dinner coat and spotless 
 tie, had halted before his mirror for one last 
 brushing of his thick, dark hair. His door 
 stood ajar, and Janet's face was in the crack. 
 At her question, he sent her a welcoming smile 
 by way of the glass. 
 
 " It 's the office dinner, to-night, you know. " 
 
 Also by way of the glass, Janet sent him a wry 
 face. Then she accepted the welcome and, push- 
 ing open the door, entered the room. 
 
 " How can you go to that thing ? " she asked 
 disdainfully. 
 
 "How can I help it ?" 
 
 "Stay at home. There will be all sorts of 
 stupid people there," she said, as she crossed 
 the room and stood staring into the mirror with 
 obvious satisfaction in the rich, dark beauty of 
 the pictured face. 
 
 "I can't well get out of going. The chief 
 wouldn't like it."
 
 IN QUEBEC 179 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He counts a lot on this annual dinner of his. 
 Says it makes us better acquainted. " 
 
 "But you don't want to get better acquainted," 
 Janet said sagaciously. 
 
 "No; I can't say I do," Ronald made honest 
 confession. "I like to pick my own friends. 
 Still, one can't stand out on a matter like this. " 
 
 "I don't see why." 
 
 " Because, next time, I 'd be left to sit it out 
 alone, either in the office, or outside." Ronald 
 laid down his brushes and gave one final tweak 
 to his tie. "Besides," he added then; "one or 
 two of the fellows are n't so bad ; and, if it comes 
 to that, there are stupid people here." 
 
 Swiftly Janet made a face at the opposite wall. 
 
 " Even in this house ? " she queried, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 Ronald laughed. Then he nodded. However, 
 Janet promptly disagreed with the ground that 
 she herself had taken. 
 
 "And they aren't stupid, either, only pesky," 
 she said thoughtfully. " Yes, brother, I mean just 
 pesky. It 's not slang, only a dowdy old word that 
 most people are too fashionable to use ; but it fits 
 some people to a T." Resting one elbow on the 
 dressing-table, she arranged the ebony-backed 
 brushes to her liking, rubbed her finger across
 
 180 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and across their intricate monograms, and then 
 glanced up once more. "I wonder which is 
 worse : to be just pesky, or downright bad ? " 
 she added. " For my part, I 'd rather get on 
 with the bad ones. You can generally tell what 
 they will do next; but Rob and Day " 
 
 Silently Ronald pointed to the opposite wall. 
 Janet's voice was rising to the danger limit. 
 
 "People catch their own names, when they 
 can't hear anything else," he explained. "I 
 really don't think Day is in her room, though." 
 
 But Janet had cast herself down on the bed. 
 
 "Oh, I do want to see Sidney," she said. " She 
 always made things go right. " 
 
 Turning his back to the mirror, Ronald sat 
 down on the edge of the low dressing table and 
 fell to swinging one foot to and fro. 
 
 ."The thing I can't understand, is what set 
 them going wrong in the first place," he said 
 meditatively. 
 
 Janet cast one swift, shrewd glance up at him ; 
 then she lowered her eyes. Until that moment, 
 she had supposed that Ronald was in possession of 
 all the facts, that his loyalty to her arose from ap- 
 proval, not from ignorance. Again and again 
 the two Leslies had discussed the hostility of 
 the two Argyles, but in such general terms that 
 never once had it dawned upon Janet that her
 
 IN QUEBEC 181 
 
 brother might be lacking the clue to the entire 
 situation. Granted that he held it, no need to 
 discuss it. Penitential thoughts came easily to 
 Janet; not so, penitential words. Nevertheless, 
 it is doubtful whether, loving and trusting Ronald 
 absolutely, she could so long have kept him in 
 ignorance of her leading share in the general 
 catastrophe, had she not taken it for granted 
 that he was already in possession of it in all 
 its details. From certain utterances of Ronald, 
 she had gathered the fact that sparks had flown 
 freely between himself and the Argyles, just be- 
 fore he had dashed out to her rescue. Quite as 
 a matter of course, Janet had assumed that Day 
 had spoken to her discredit and that Ronald had 
 resented Day's tale. Under such conditions, it 
 was scarcely to be wondered at that Janet, know- 
 ing the real truth of any charges Day might bring, 
 should prefer to maintain a sturdy reticence re- 
 garding them. Discussion would lead to an 
 inevitable acknowledgment that she was inde- 
 fensibly in the wrong. 
 
 " Then you really don't know what is the mat- 
 ter ? " she asked slowly. 
 
 And Ronald made despairing answer, 
 
 "No; I'm blest if I do." 
 
 For an instant, Janet started to speak. Then, 
 as her eyes fell to the little watch that dangled
 
 182 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 from its pin, she checked the impulse. Inside of 
 ten minutes, Ronald must leave the house; and 
 her own accountability for the present state of 
 war could never, she felt, be properly discussed 
 within the narrow limits of ten minutes. In- 
 stead, 
 
 "Do you care ? " she asked flippantly. 
 
 "Yes," Ronald said honestly; "I do care a long 
 way more than I like to own." 
 
 Janet gave a sniff of unalloyed hostility. 
 
 "I don't," she said mendaciously. 
 
 "I miss them; at least, I miss Day," Ronald 
 said slowly, and, as he spoke, his face clouded. 
 
 " I don't, " Janet repeated. 
 
 In spite of his trouble, Ronald smiled. 
 
 " Nor Rob ? " he queried. 
 
 " Not when I have you, " she retorted. 
 
 "But you used to have us both." 
 
 " Not so much as you might think. There was 
 always Day, you see. " 
 
 " I don't see what she had to do with it " 
 
 " Oh ! " Janet's tone was conclusive. " You 
 don't." 
 
 And there came an interval of silence. Ronald 
 broke it 
 
 "Anyway, I wish it would end. I hate this 
 sort of thing, and I *d give a good deal to know 
 what it really was that started it."
 
 IN QUEBEC 183 
 
 "Ask them," Janet suggested, her eyes on the 
 loosening edge of her shoe-sole. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " What did they say ? " 
 
 "Nothing. It was Rob, and he just laughed 
 and said, 'Speaking of rats, I believe I left my 
 book upstairs. ' ' 
 
 Janet pondered. 
 
 " What in the world did he mean ? " she said at 
 last, unable to read any sinister statement into 
 the words. 
 
 "You '11 have to ask him. Then he picked up 
 his stick and himself, and went off and left me 
 sitting there." 
 
 In spite of herself, Janet's sigh of relief was 
 audible. Then, as Ronald arose and began look- 
 ing about for his hat, she asked abruptly, 
 
 " When have you heard from Sidney ? " 
 
 "Tuesday. Why?" 
 
 " Nothing. " Janet rose in her turn, for it was 
 obvious that the discussion must end. "I only 
 wish she were here to bully her compatriots into 
 behaving themselves." 
 
 Nevertheless, as she mounted the stairs to her 
 own room, Janet Leslie was uncomfortably con- 
 scious that it was someone besides the Argyles 
 who needed to be bullied into good behaviour. 
 Blame lay on both sides; to one side alone be-
 
 184 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 longed the honour, or the dishonour, of being the 
 first cause of blame, and Janet, in her saner mo- 
 ments, admitted to herself that she was it. Worst 
 of all, up to the present hour, she had supposed 
 that everybody in the house was aware of her 
 position, and half of her defiant disregard of 
 consequences had had its source in that belief. 
 Now that, for no cause whatsoever, she had as- 
 sumed this attitude of brazen indifference, she 
 found it hard to see how she could return to 
 the paths of meekness, and yet sacrifice no whit 
 of her dignity. Some day, she would talk it over 
 with Ronald, perhaps confess the truth, perhaps 
 even ask his advice, although she knew in ad- 
 vance what form that advice would take. As 
 for Rob She shrugged her thin little shoul- 
 ders. His opinions did not count. He was an 
 American and rude withal, critical and rude. 
 She would be glad when the time came for his 
 return to New York. 
 
 Descending the stairs, a half-hour later, Janet 
 met Rob at the top of the lower flight. She 
 stepped back to allow him to pass, moved less 
 by consideration for his lameness than by a sud- 
 den memory of the old-time superstition that it is 
 ill luck to pass on the stairs. For the moment, 
 as he saw her standing there, Rob forgot the feud 
 and hailed her jovially, for the intoxication of the
 
 IN QUEBEC 185 
 
 wintry air and of the moonlight was upon him, and 
 other and indoor things seemed of small account. 
 All that glorious, clean, clear afternoon, he had 
 been sleighing with Day, out past Sainte Foy 
 church to Cap Rouge and home by the Sillery 
 Road. In the still, cold air, the snow had 
 squeaked beneath the horses' hoofs, the bells 
 had rung out crisply, and the dropping sun had 
 cast long bluish shadows across the glistening 
 fields. Then the sun had fallen through the 
 yellow west, and the golden afterglow had risen 
 up to meet the licking tongues of the aurora, 
 until both afterglow and aurora had lost their 
 lustre before the dazzling circle of the winter 
 moon. The driver's calls to his horses sounded 
 out as sharply as ever; but, on the seat behind 
 him, the talk had fallen into silence while, as 
 though to take the place of words, one fur-clad 
 shoulder had nestled against the other. And 
 Rob, in the growing darkness, had smiled to 
 himself, as he had recalled the dainty remoteness, 
 only a year before, of that same little gray fur coat. 
 Just outside the toll-gate, the horses broke their 
 trot and fell to plodding soberly along. An in- 
 stant later, however, they shied violently. From 
 out the darkening landscape, a vision had sprung 
 up from beneath their very feet, a vision whose 
 stiff black hat was bound to his head with a
 
 18C JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 knotted handkerchief, and who pried himself to 
 his feet by means of a snowshoe in each mittencd 
 hand. 
 
 "Oh, it 's you again," the vision said, in level, 
 unaccented voice. "I thought it was you, you 
 know." 
 
 Day omitted conventional greeting. Not all 
 the repetition in the world could accustom her 
 to Sir George's trick of springing up upon the 
 scene like a roving British Jack-in-the-box. 
 
 " Where did you come from ? " she asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Here. I was resting a bit, you know. I 've 
 learned to do as you said." 
 
 " What was that ? " Day demanded, wholly at 
 a loss to remember the especial nugget of wisdom 
 to which Sir George was obviously referring. 
 
 "To sit on my shoes," he made reply. "If I 
 lay one across the other, they don't leak so very 
 much and it 's far more comfortable than sitting 
 on the snow." 
 
 " But what do you sit down for at all ? " Day 
 persisted. 
 
 In the pale yellow moonlight, Sir George bent 
 upon her a glance of rebuke for her limited un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 "Because I get so very tired," he made answer 
 then.
 
 IN QUEBEC 181 
 
 From an ominous trembling of the gray-furred 
 shoulder beside him, Rob judged that Day was 
 likely to be speechless, judged, too, that it would 
 be well for him to come to her relief. 
 
 "Good evening, Sir George," he said. 
 
 " Oh, good evening ! " Sir George sought for 
 his glass, but missed it by reason of the size of 
 the thumb of his mitten. Without the glass, he 
 peered up uncertainly at the face above him. 
 " I 'm afraid I have n't " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you have. I 'm Rob Argyle." 
 
 " Oh ! The fellow in the sleeping car ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The lame one ? " 
 
 " The very same. " 
 
 " Good evening. I say, how 's your leg ? " 
 
 "Cold as blazes," Rob made cheery answer. 
 " How are yours ? " 
 
 " Mine ? Oh, but mine are n't lame, you know," 
 Sir George explained dubiously. 
 
 "Not yet. They will be, though." 
 
 Sir George cast an anxious glance down at the 
 members under discussion. 
 
 " What makes you think they will ? " 
 
 " Because it 's not good for them to go snow- 
 shoeing all over the Cove Fields, and then sit 
 down in the snow to rest." 
 
 Sir George looked up at the occupants of the
 
 188 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 sleigh, his lower jaw dangling loosely in the sling 
 of the kerchief. 
 
 "Perhaps it is n't," he gave assent. "But it 's 
 so tiresome, this snowshoeing, that a fellow has 
 to rest up a bit now and then. " 
 
 Day once more plunged into the conversation. 
 
 "What makes you do it, if you find it so tire- 
 some ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because it 's the thing to do here, you know. 
 When I go home, they '11 all ask me if I went 
 snowshocing in Quebec, just as they '11 ask me if 
 I saw Wall Street, when I was in New York, or 
 if I ate cheese in Neufcbltel," Sir George ex- 
 plained. Then he started suddenly, his languid 
 attention evidently impaled upon the point of a 
 new idea. "I say, you know," he queried; "how 
 does it happen that you two chaps are together ? " 
 
 This time, Day stared at him in unmixed aston- 
 ishment Could it be that Sir George Porteous 
 was losing that minus quantity, his wits ? 
 
 " Why should n't we be together ? " she de- 
 manded, so shortly that Sir George Porteous 
 dodged at the question as at a physical blow. 
 
 "No reason," he reassured her; "no reason at 
 all. It 's all right, you know. I only thought 
 it a bit strange, when you 're the only two friends 
 I have in the city, that you should happen to be 
 friends of each other, too."
 
 IN QUEBEC 189 
 
 Day hunted for her handkerchief. Rob's own 
 voice was so unsteady as to drive him to seek the 
 briefest possible words. 
 
 " Very strange, inasmuch as this is my sister. " 
 
 " Really ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Sir George turned to Day. 
 
 " And he is your brother ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 For the space of a moment, Sir George pon- 
 dered. Then, 
 
 " How rummy ! " he observed, with thoughtful 
 satisfaction. 
 
 It ended with their bringing Sir George home 
 to the Chateau. Wedged bodkinwise between 
 them and supported by a snowshoe in either 
 mittened hand, Sir George came riding in the 
 Grande Alle'e. For the most part, he communed 
 with himself. Once, however, he broke the si- 
 lence and gave tongue to the stars. 
 
 "It 's quite my own idea," he assured an imag- 
 inary audience. "A fellow's hat comes off in the 
 drifts, and it 's no end of a fuss to get down and 
 pick it up. Once it 's tied on, you see, there 's no 
 more trouble." 
 
 And so it was that, intoxicated with ozone and 
 cold and suppressed hilarity, Rob Argyle, coming 
 up the stairs, was in a frame of mind to forget his
 
 190 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 feuds and all similar concerns and share his over- 
 flowing jollity with whomsoever he might meet. 
 And, as it chanced, he met Janet just at the head 
 of the stairs. 
 
 "Hullo, Janet!" he called jovially. "How 
 goes it?" 
 
 "Very well, thank you." 
 
 The echo of his own voice dulled his ears to the 
 icy chill of Janet's reply. From helow, through 
 the open door of his mother's room, he could hear, 
 by occasional words and many giggles, that Day 
 was giving her mother a full account of their 
 recent meeting. It was for him to pour the 
 same tale into the ears of Janet. 
 
 " You 've missed it, Janet. You ought to have 
 been with us," he continued, with a bland disre- 
 gard of the fact that, uninvited, Janet would 
 scarcely have been likely to have made a part of 
 their expedition. "We've been interviewing the 
 freak of the ages, and you 'd better believe he was 
 amusing. " 
 
 " Who was he ? " Janet asked sedately, as Rob 
 halted before her with the obvious intention of 
 carrying the tale of his adventures into its last 
 chapter. 
 
 "One of your crazy Britishers. We found him 
 sitting on his snowshoes, out by the Cove Fields, 
 and we have just deposited him at his own door."
 
 IN QUEBEC 191 
 
 " Where was that ? " Janet still held her voice 
 level, although, looking up at Rob, it took all her 
 resolution not to meet his mood half way. Rob's 
 face, alert and alight, was most friendly and win- 
 ning just then, his yellow hair lay crisply about 
 his forehead, his blue eyes were eager and alive 
 with fun, while his fur-lined coat, reaching to his 
 heels, added inches to his height and manliness 
 to his whole figure. As he stood there, cap in 
 hand, smiling at her with the gay friendliness 
 she had supposed forever dead, Janet could feel 
 the whole gentler, better side of her nature strug- 
 gling to rush out and greet his own. It would 
 be so good to be back again on the old, familiar, 
 jovial terms. Not even to Ronald had she been 
 willing to confess how much she had missed Rob 
 out of her life. And now here he was, forget- 
 ting the past, and ready She drew herself up 
 sharply. That was just the trouble. He was 
 forgetting the past, probably because it was a 
 matter of no importance to him. Very likely 
 he had not minded it in the least that they 
 had quarrelled; very likely it never had oc- 
 curred to him to notice how systematically she 
 had held herself aloof from his society. That 
 was all she had counted to him, something to 
 play with when Day was busy, something to be 
 thrown aside and forgotten when Day was at hand
 
 192 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and at leisure. And, in the meantime, she had 
 been wasting long hours of worry over a situa- 
 tion which, in so far as Rob's minding it was 
 concerned, was wholly imaginary. Her bad tem- 
 per, like most other sins, had reacted on herself 
 and made only herself uncomfortable. And, as 
 Janet's mind went leaping along from point to 
 point, she was conscious of a furious regret for 
 the tear-soaked handkerchief which she had just 
 now rolled into a tight little ball and thrown into 
 her top bureau drawer. She raised her head de- 
 fiantly ; but she turned her back to the light. 
 
 "Where was that?" Rob was echoing. "The 
 Chateau, of course; that seems to be the freak- 
 shop for the entire province. This fellow is the 
 gem of the whole show, though. He was in the 
 sleeper, the day I came up. Since then, I 've 
 seen him, three or four times. He has a trick 
 of appearing at odd hours, like the Fool in Shake- 
 speare's plays, only Shakespeare never made one 
 half so fooly." 
 
 " How interesting! " Janet's tone was modelled 
 on that of certain of her mother's callers. It was 
 remote and elderly and wholly indulgent to the 
 vivacious viewpoint of her companion. 
 
 "You bet he is! Last time, we found him just 
 as a couple of nuns were shooing him out from 
 the Hotel Dieu cloisters. To-day, togged out in
 
 IN QUEBEC 193 
 
 scarlet mitties and a bandage over his hat to hold 
 it on, he was doing a trick on snowshoes. At 
 least, he is never trite. He does all the regula- 
 tion things ; but he manages to add a fresh, artistic 
 touch to the way he goes about them. Some day 
 or other, I expect to find him sliding down the 
 face of Cape Diamond, to see if it hurt Mont- 
 gomery when he fell. What have you been 
 doing, all afternoon ? " Rob wound up cheerily. 
 
 "Sewing." 
 
 Rob shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Not out, this jolly afternoon ? " 
 
 Janet's lips shut for a moment. 
 
 " I had nothing to take me out," she replied then. 
 
 " Why did n't you come along with us ? There 
 would have been plenty of room. You 're so little, 
 we could stick you in anywhere," Rob said be- 
 nevolently. 
 
 The matter-of-course assurance of his tone 
 nettled Janet. 
 
 "As a general thing, I don't invite myself," 
 she answered, with an ominous dignity. 
 
 Rob laughed, as he mounted the last step of the 
 stairs and turned towards his own door. 
 
 " I suspect that 's one on me, Janet, " he re- 
 marked, with easy good-humour. "Well, never 
 mind. Next time, just remind me, and I '11 in- 
 vite you." 
 
 13
 
 194 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Janet started to speak. Then, as she heard 
 Day's step in the hall below, she turned around 
 just in time to catch the merry, mischievous 
 gesture of warning and of feigned terror which 
 Day was sending up to her brother in the hall 
 above. For an instant, Janet flushed hotly. She 
 was sure that Day had been there long, listening 
 and keeping up a commentary of derisive gesticu- 
 lation which, no doubt, had gone far to account 
 for Rob's hilarity. Rob had called the stranger 
 a crazy Britisher. Doubtless, he had been used 
 to call her another and, when her back was 
 turned, to make merry over her with Day. She 
 stiffened with the thought, unjust, unmerited 
 though it was. Then she cast one scornful 
 glance down at Day, one glance of half -veiled 
 antagonism up at Rob. 
 
 "Thank you," she said curtly. "I only accept 
 invitations from my friends." 
 
 Then she turned away, and, mounting the stairs 
 to her own room, she opened her top bureau drawer 
 and sought for her handkerchief.
 
 IN QUEBEC 195 
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 THE house was silent and dark, that night, 
 when Ronald Leslie came up the steps. 
 The click of his latchkey, however, was answered 
 by the softer click of an electric button, and by 
 the creak of an upstairs door. 
 
 " Ronald ! " Janet called softly, from over the 
 banisters. 
 
 " You up ? " 
 
 Janet's arm, plunging about in search of the 
 second sleeve of her dressing-gown, cast strange 
 shadows on the wall. 
 
 "I heard you come, and I got up. I want to 
 hear about it." 
 
 "To-night?" Even his whispered question 
 had a laugh lurking in it. 
 
 " Now. I 'm not sleepy, truthfully. Come up 
 and tell me," she begged. And Ronald, shaking 
 himself free of his coat, mounted the stairs. 
 
 He found a tight little bundle of blue blanket 
 and blue dressing-gown huddled in a corner of the 
 couch, and the sole arm-chair the room afforded, 
 drawn forward and evidently awaiting him.
 
 196 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Bad child! You '11 catch a cold," he admon- 
 ished her, as, with one strong hand, he dragged 
 the coverings from the bed and heaped them 
 about her. "You ought to be asleep." 
 
 A shapeless lump of bedclothes pointed vaguely 
 in the direction of the clock. 
 
 "It's early yet, and I want to hear about it. 
 Sit down and tell me. Something funny has 
 happened; I know it from the look in your 
 eyes. " 
 
 Ronald laughed, as he settled himself in the 
 arm-chair. His laugh increased, until his broad 
 shoulders shook. 
 
 "Somebody happened, Janet, "he corrected her. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Sir George Porteous. " 
 
 Who 's he ? " 
 
 "An embodied joke." Ronald felt about in 
 his pockets, produced a card, and tossed the 
 card across to Janet. "This was it," he added 
 then. " He 's out from London, says he has been 
 here since October; but, if he has, I don't see how 
 I can have missed him. He 's not the sort to pass 
 in a crowd. " 
 
 " Why not ? " Janet asked again, and again 
 Ronald laughed. 
 
 "Because he is so funny, funny. He seems a 
 good little chap, well-bred and good-natured ; but
 
 IN QUEBEC 197 
 
 I never saw any human being with so little sense, 
 nor so little idea how to show off what sense he 
 has." 
 
 ' Where did he come from ? " Janet demanded 
 a bit impatiently, for it seemed to her that Ronald 
 held a monopoly of the joke. 
 
 "London." 
 
 " Yes, you said so. But at your dinner ? " 
 
 " The chief asked him. It seems, he brought a 
 letter to the chief, and there was some talk of his 
 coming into the office for the winter. I fancy the 
 talk will go up in smoke, though, for Sir George 
 Porteous was never constructed for office life. He 
 asked me if I did n't find it very tiresome, sitting 
 on a stool, all day ; and, after he had digested my 
 answer, he followed it up with a question as to 
 whether a fellow might n't bring his own footrest, 
 the stools were so beastly high." 
 
 " Ronald ! " Janet protested. 
 
 "For a fact, Janet. I 'm not making up a 
 word. You see, I had him to talk to. The 
 chief told me about him, as soon as I went in, 
 told me he was a stranger here and asked me 
 to look out for him. He may have thought the 
 other fellows were more likely to chaff him. Sir 
 George was late coming; we were half through 
 dinner, when he came sauntering in with some 
 wild excuse about having sat too long in the snow
 
 198 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and being so stiff that it took him a good while 
 to dress." 
 
 "Ronald! " Janet protested again. 
 
 And again Ronald replied concisely, 
 
 "Fact." 
 
 "What is he like?" 
 
 " The sort of thing that drifts out here, now and 
 then, to keep us content with being colonials." 
 
 " Then he 's not of our sort ? " Janet queried. 
 
 " Thank the Immortals, no ! " Ronald said fer- 
 vently. Then he relented. " And yet, after all, 
 Janet, I rather liked the fellow. He is funny, 
 the funniest thing that ever talked ; but now and 
 then he had an idea, and the idea was generally 
 good. The only trouble was that they came so 
 rarely that they took me by surprise, and I an- 
 swered at random and threw him off the track. 
 He 's easily thrown off the track, too," Ronald 
 added reminiscently. 
 
 " What does he look like ? " Janet demanded. 
 "Maybe I have seen him somewhere." 
 
 Ronald searched his mind for words. 
 
 "I'm no gocd at description, Janet," he said 
 then. "He is little and dark, with lanky dark 
 hair that dangles all over his forehead, and a lean 
 little lower jaw that dangles all over his collar. 
 It has dangled there till it lias worn a pair of 
 deep, deep wrinkles in his cheeks. lie has a
 
 IN QUEBEC 199 
 
 monocle, and he carries his mouth ajar, and, 
 when he wants to be extra impressive, he ges- 
 ticulates with his forefinger." 
 
 Janet sat up alertly. 
 
 " And sticks his nose in the air, and turns his 
 head back and forth without moving his eyes, and 
 looks as if he did n't know enough to stop a street- 
 car ? " she asked. 
 
 " The very same. " 
 
 She sank back again among her blankets. 
 
 "Hh! I know him," she asserted. 
 
 "Know him?" 
 
 "Yes. I 've seen him on the terrace." 
 
 " Ever heard him talk ? " Ronald queried. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then you 've lost a treat. His first words to 
 me were astounding. The chief introduced us, 
 and he put up his glass and looked at me, up and 
 up and up and up, for he 's a little fellow. Then 
 he dropped his glass and said, 'Oh, how do you 
 do ? Do you happen to have a safety pin any- 
 where about you ? ' 
 
 Janet subsided among her blankets. 
 
 "To pin on his bib ? " she giggled. 
 
 "Nobody knows. Latoure sat on the other 
 side, and he choked until he had to leave the 
 table. Under the circumstances, I did n't feel 
 like asking too many questions," Ronald con-
 
 200 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 fessed. "Do you know, Janet, it was a funny 
 thing; but I kept thinking, all the time I was 
 talking to him, how Day would have taken him 
 in. I was out on the Cove Fields with her, one 
 afternoon, and another fellow of about the same 
 sort came along and spoke to us. He was n't 
 nearly so funny; but I thought Day would die 
 of him." As he spoke, Ronald started to rise. 
 
 Janet had sobered at his words. All at once, 
 there had come back to her the memory of her 
 real reason for summoning Ronald to her room. 
 The talk, drifting into other channels, had made 
 her forget her resolution. Now she gripped it 
 sturdily. 
 
 " Don't go yet, Ronald. You are n't sleepy, I 
 know. " 
 
 Something in her tone caught his attention, 
 always vigilant where Janet was concerned. 
 
 " What is it, dear ? Is something wrong ? " he 
 asked instantly. 
 
 "Yes. No. Not now. But are you too tired 
 to stay and talk it over ? " 
 
 For his answer, Ronald seated himself and 
 waited, waited long and patiently for, now that 
 her chance was come, Janet seemed loath to 
 speak. 
 
 "Do you remember the day of the storm, 
 Ronald ? " she blurted out at length.
 
 'Now that her chance was come, Janet seemed loath to speak." Paye 200.
 
 IN QUEBEC 201 
 
 "The day things happened ? " 
 
 She nodded. Under her muffling blankets, he 
 could see her hands working uneasily. The 
 pause lengthened once more. 
 
 "Did you ever know what started all the fuss ? " 
 she blurted out again. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, I did." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, I." She reiterated her statement, witli 
 a sudden wave of the satisfaction girls sometimes 
 take in heaping blame upon their own heads. " It 
 was all my fault; at least, not all, but mostly. 
 Anyway, I started it." 
 
 " But, Janet, how ? " 
 
 Her reply came crisply. 
 
 " Fighting Day. Then fighting Rob. " 
 
 " Rob ? " Ronald looked up from the carpet. 
 " I did n't suppose anybody ever fought with him. " 
 
 " You 've fought him, your own self, ever since 
 that night," Janet retorted sharply, for she was 
 quick to feel the disappointment which sounded 
 underneath Ronald's surprise. " Besides, you 
 said, yourself, that you had a fuss with him, 
 that very night." 
 
 Ronald's face grew scarlet. 
 
 "So I did, Janet. I was wild about you, and 
 off my nerve."
 
 202 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "So was I off my nerve, I suppose," she re- 
 sponded. " Let 's not get mad at each other, 
 Ronald." She laughed a little nervously. "That 
 would be the last straw." 
 
 But his answering smile was free from all trace 
 of anger. 
 
 " I 'm not cross, Janet. I 'm only trying to 
 think it out. What started you and Day off ? " 
 
 Janet hesitated. Then she resolved to make a 
 clean breast of the matter. 
 
 "I was cross, that morning. I got up, cross. 
 My hair would n't do. It tangled and threw the 
 comb, and that broke. Then I tore the placket 
 of my skirt, not straight, but all off cornerwise. 
 Then 1 came down to breakfast, and found Marie 
 had burned the porridge till it tasted like a salt- 
 hay bonfire. By the time breakfast was over, I 
 did n't care what happened, so, when Day began 
 to criticize the Quebec shops, I turned around and 
 told her just what I thought of her. " Janet had 
 straightened up, blankets and all, in the fervour 
 of her tale. Now she sank back again, with a 
 nervous little giggle. "And I did n't think nice 
 things at all," she added. 
 
 Ronald's eyes were once more on the carpet. 
 He spoke without lifting them, 
 
 "I 'm sorry." 
 
 Janet coloured. Then,
 
 IN QUEBEC 203 
 
 "So was I, the minute I had done it," she said. 
 "And, the worst of it was, the more sorry I felt, 
 the more I longed to go at her again. It has been 
 so, ever since. I 've been sorry and ashamed; but 
 she has been so fluffy and superior about it all 
 that I have been tempted, a dozen times over, to 
 start fresh and do it all over again. It seemed 
 a shame to be so sorry about something that 
 hadn't taken any more effect." 
 
 A little pause followed her last words. Sud- 
 denly she broke it by asking, 
 
 " Do you think I 'm very horrid, Ronald ? " 
 
 He roused himself at the question. 
 
 "No, dear; not horrid. I 'm only sorry and a 
 good deal surprised." 
 
 Her colour came again, while she looked at him 
 through her long lashes. 
 
 "You did n't think I had it in me, Ronald ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 "No, Janet. I did n't." 
 
 "Well, I have," she said, with sudden spirit. 
 "What 's more, I suspect most girls have, if the 
 truth were known. It 's there, all the time; it is 
 only a question whether something comes up to 
 set us off. Some of us take more setting than 
 others; some of us go farther than others, when 
 we 're set. But I don't believe there 's a girl 
 living, a real, live, healthy girl, that has n't a
 
 204 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 streak of gunpowder in her, somewhere or other. 
 If there is, then I don't want to meet her. " 
 
 "Nor I," Ronald assented unexpectedly. 
 "Neither do I want to meet a girl who leaves 
 her gunpowder lying around loose. If a spark 
 drops on it, she is as likely to blow up her best 
 friend as her worst enemy. It 's as uncomfortable 
 for one as for the other; but it generally makes 
 some difference afterwards to the girl herself." 
 He spoke with the quiet dignity which he assumed 
 at times, a dignity which never failed to make 
 Janet think back to their father, now sleeping 
 under the Mount Hermon trees. Then he held 
 out his arms. "Come over here, Janet," he said. 
 
 And Janet came. Great girl that she was, 
 blankets and all she curled herself up on Ron- 
 ald's knee and nestled to the circling grasp of 
 his strong arms. 
 
 " Is n't it all horrid ? " she said brokenly at 
 length. 
 
 And Ronald answered gravely, 
 
 " Yes, dear, it is. Still, I 'm glad you 've told 
 me." 
 
 "I should have told you before, only I sup- 
 posed you all knew it." 
 
 " But how could we know ? " 
 
 Janet lifted her head from his shoulder, with a 
 touch of her former spirit.
 
 IN QUEBEC 205 
 
 "I should think you had time enough to talk it 
 over and get all the facts, while I was freezing in 
 the coalhole," she responded. 
 
 " But who was there to tell them ? " 
 
 "Day." 
 
 " You 're not quite fair to Day, Janet. You 
 never were." 
 
 "What 's the use, when she 's so more than fair 
 to herself ? " Janet protested mutinously. " It 
 never seems to occur to Day Argyle that she 
 is n't just right, never. Perhaps she is all 
 right. She may be, for all I know. Still, I 
 do wish she would show occasional misgivings 
 on the subject. I 'd like to see her, just once, 
 all mussed up and crying her eyes out." 
 
 Prudently Ronald changed the subject. He 
 felt that Janet was sounding feminine depths 
 which he could never hope to fathom. Rather 
 than flounder about too aimlessly, he dived in 
 another direction. 
 
 "But you said you fought with Rob, too," he 
 suggested. 
 
 Janet sat up straight. 
 
 "So I did. It was afterwards, and it almost 
 killed me," she confessed. "1 did n't care about 
 Day so much ; but it has worried me into mental 
 cramps, this fuss with Rob. I was all to blame, 
 and he is such a dear. I can see him now, poor
 
 206 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 old boy, stooping down to get his stick and then 
 getting up and looking at me, as if he thought I 
 had gone crazy. Perhaps I had." Again Janet's 
 laugh threatened to become hysterical. 
 
 With rare patience, Ronald waited until she 
 was quiet once more. Then he said gently, 
 
 "Tell me all about it, Janet; that is, if you 
 don't mind." 
 
 " But I don't mind, Ronald. It 's what I stayed 
 awake for. It 's worse than ever, to-night, and 
 I've just got to tell somebody or die," Janet 
 burst out, in a sudden access of woe. 
 
 " What is wrong, to-night ? " 
 
 "Everything," Janet wailed comprehensively. 
 "It was my fault again, though, if that is any 
 comfort to you. You had gone, and I was just 
 going downstairs, when I met Rob coming up. 
 All at once, he was just like his dear old jolly 
 self, and talked away just as he used to do. 1 
 was stiff and poky and horrid, for I was sur- 
 prised and didn't know what to make of it; but 
 he did n't take any notice and went on talking, 
 till I almost forgot we had been keeping still. 
 And then, all at once, I heard a little noise, and 
 there was Day, snipping up her nose at me and 
 making fun of me behind my back, and I just 
 snapped out something and marched up here to 
 my room, and I have n't been down since."
 
 IN QUEBEC 207 
 
 " But, Janet " 
 
 "Don't let's argue," she said impatiently. 
 " What 's the use ? I know just how bad I 
 was ; I 've bitten off my own nose to spite my 
 face. If Day had only kept herself out of it, 
 Rob and I would have been good friends, within 
 ten minutes. I felt it coming; and then, all at 
 once, she spoiled it all." 
 
 "But she didn't spoil your friendship, in the 
 first place," Ronald suggested. 
 
 "Yes, she did, too. She stirred me up and 
 made me cross," Janet insisted, quite oblivious 
 of the fact that, a quarter of an hour earlier, she 
 had assigned another cause for her bad temper. 
 
 " And so you took it out on Rob ? " 
 
 " Don't laugh, Ronald, " she begged him. " Truly 
 it is n't funny. You would n't think so, if you 'd 
 seen Rob's face. He was all white, white, and his 
 eyes grew big, and his lips twitched. I think he 
 was afraid of what I 'd do next. You see, I went 
 to the library and found him there, all sole alone, 
 and I went over and sat down beside him to talk. 
 He looked as lonesome as I felt. And then, all 
 of a sudden, he began teasing me. I hate being 
 teased ; I 'm not used to it, and, that day, I 
 did n't like it a bit. I was all edgewise, and 
 I I rather think I hoped he 'd cuddle me, in- 
 stead. But he didn't; he teased. Then I lost
 
 208 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 my temper, and said things I did n't mean, and 
 then, while he was getting on his feet, I ran away 
 and left him. " 
 
 Ronald's arm tightened suddenly. 
 
 " And that was how you came in the vault ? " 
 he inquired, for, up to now, Janet had main- 
 tained a sturdy reticence in regard to the motive 
 which had led to her explorations. 
 
 "I didn't mind that," she said shortly. "It 
 was a fair punishment. I knew it was going to 
 be a fearful storm; I knew that very likely the 
 cars would stop running. Instead of sticking to 
 Rob and seeing that he came home safely, I ran 
 away from him and left him to get on alone as 
 best he could." 
 
 "And the vault?" Ronald questioned again. 
 
 Janet's colour rose in her cheeks. 
 
 " That was part of it. He came to the door and 
 called after me down the stairs. I was n't going 
 to let him catch me then ; I was too angry. I ex- 
 pected he would come downstairs after me, and I 
 was bound I 'd not be seen, so I dodged inside the 
 nearest door." 
 
 "And?" Ronald asked. 
 
 "And the door had a spring lock," Janet an- 
 swered conclusively. Then she added, "And, 
 when I did get home, there was Rob put to bed 
 for four mortal days, and his mother half-insane
 
 IN QUEBEC 209 
 
 with fear he had done himself a harm he 'd never 
 get over. I used to lie awake, nights, and imagine 
 him bedridden and it all my fault, and think how 
 pale and thin and sad he probably was. And then, 
 when he did come downstairs, there he was, jolly 
 and big and handsome as ever, and not limping 
 one bit more than he always had done. But do 
 you wonder I hated myself and the Argyles and 
 everybody else ? Everything had gone wrong, 
 and I did n't care for anybody, and I was to 
 blame for it all, and the worst of it all was 
 that none of you took the trouble to 
 ask me what the trouble really was. " And 
 Janet, her head on Ronald's broad shoulder, fell 
 to sobbing in good earnest. 
 
 It was growing late, before Ronald felt the last 
 long sob go shivering through her thin, lithe little 
 body. Then, and not till then, he said gently, 
 
 " I 'm sorry, Janet. It has been very messy. 
 Still, it is done, and all we can do now is to go 
 to work to undo it. " 
 
 " We ? " she queried incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 "But I began it." 
 
 "And I helped to keep it up," he reminded 
 her. 
 
 Janet gave a sudden, vengeful sniff. 
 
 "But we were n't the only ones to blame." 
 
 14
 
 210 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "We were the first," he reminded her again. 
 
 "I suppose. But what are you going to do 
 about it, Ronald ? " 
 
 "Make friends." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Whatever way shows itself first. " 
 
 She compressed her lips doubtfully. 
 
 " Apologize ? " she questioned. 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "But, Ronald, I won't! At least, not now." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because I 'd rather get friends first, and apolo- 
 gize afterwards," she protested. 
 
 "When a cart gets to dragging the horse, it 
 generally runs down hill and ends in the gutter," 
 he suggested. 
 
 "Don't!" she said rebelliously. "You sound 
 like a moral, an ^Esop moral, and I can do my 
 own moralizing. I know I ought to apologize; 
 I 've known it from the start, and the knowing 
 it has helped to make me cranky. However, the 
 long and the short of it is, I don't want to." 
 
 " Why not ? " he questioned. 
 
 She slid down from his knee and stood facing 
 him, a shapeless cocoon of blankets topped with 
 a face which, just then, seemed to be all eyes. 
 
 "Because," she answered; "one feels such a 
 fool, while the apology is being accepted and
 
 IN QUEBEC 211 
 
 the fatted calf is being butchered. Wait till I 
 go out to Cap Rouge, some day in the holidays, 
 and I '11 telephone in my apology from there." 
 
 "But next week is Christmas," he reminded 
 her. 
 
 "What if it is?" 
 
 "And one can't fight on Christmas." 
 
 " One can let each other alone, then, " she re- 
 torted. " We are n't going to hang up our stock- 
 ings together." 
 
 Ronald smiled, as he rose to his feet. 
 
 "No," he assented. "Still, one hates to talk 
 about Peace on Earth, when there 's such a jolly 
 row going on in the house. If I were you, 
 Janet " 
 
 " You are n't, " she said. " But what about it ? " 
 
 "If I were you, I rather think I'd apologize 
 before then." 
 
 She stood, for a moment, her eyes on the floor, 
 while she pondered the matter. Then she lifted 
 her eyes and smiled, with somewhat of her old 
 merriment. 
 
 "If I were you, brother, I should, and munch 
 my humble pie for Christmas dinner. Being my- 
 self, I rather think I '11 hold my peace and let 
 the storm blow over as best it can. Rob is going 
 away, the twenty-seventh. By the time he gets 
 back, you and Day will have made it up, and
 
 212 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 taken me into grace once more. After that, 
 things will go swimmingly. I 'm sorry, and 
 ashamed, and all the rest. Still, I do think, 
 all things considered, that those two Argyles 
 have been rather more superior and forgiving 
 than the case warrants." She laughed, and 
 her laugh was not wholly mirthful. Then, all 
 of a sudden, her face gentled, as she looked up 
 at her tall brother. "Ronald, you are a darling," 
 she said impetuously. "I 'm glad I 've talked it 
 out with you. Some day, I may even get to a 
 state of sanctity where I am willing to take your 
 advice. Anyway, I know you are in the right 
 of it, and I 'm glad I 've got you to give me a 
 lecture now and then. Now go to bed, you poor 
 dear thing, or you'll be dead in the morning." 
 And she stretched up her face for a good-night 
 kiss.
 
 IN QUEBEC 213 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 DAY crossed three items off her list. Then 
 she bit the end of her pencil and shook 
 her head. Rob, leaning back in a nest of furs, 
 eyed her askance. 
 
 " What now ? " he queried. 
 
 "Nothing; only we don't seem to be getting on 
 at all, and we must be home by lunch-time." 
 
 " Why ? " Rob asked, with suave unconcern. 
 
 "Because we both were so late at breakfast 
 that, if we do it again at lunch, Mrs. Leslie 
 will make a fuss." 
 
 " Then I '11 let loose the dogs of war, and we '11 
 have sassaquaw, " Rob reassured her. " Look here, 
 Day, this is the windiest corner in town, and I 'm 
 freezing. Can't you chew your pencil just as well, 
 if our Jehu drives ahead ? " 
 
 "Punch him with your stick and set him going; 
 I 'm having too much on my mind to talk French," 
 Day responded, heedless of the chance to air the 
 results of certain morning lessons. " By the way, 
 what is sassaquaw ? "
 
 214 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " It means no end of a row. I got it out of a 
 book," Rob replied, as he scientifically prodded 
 their carter in the ribs. "The word stuck in 
 my mind; it seemed such a satisfactory summing 
 up of the whole Leslie-Argyle situation. Did you 
 hear Janet turn and rend me, last night ? " 
 
 "I'm neither deaf nor blind," Day retorted. 
 "That is why I don't want to be late to lunch, 
 after we both missed breakfast. It would look 
 as if we were afraid and were keeping out of 
 their way." 
 
 "So I am," Rob answered composedly. 
 
 Day lifted her head from her list. 
 
 "I ain't," she responded, with a fervour which 
 the more decorous form of the verb would have 
 been powerless to give. 
 
 Rob laughed. Then he squinted down over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " How are we getting on, anyway ? " he asked. 
 
 Day's answer held an accent of despair. 
 
 " We are n't. Rob, I love Christmas, when it 
 comes; but the week before it is awful. What 
 are we going to give mother ? " 
 
 " Give her the mink head opera bag, and call it 
 Moses. " 
 
 Day wrinkled her brows. 
 
 "But she hasn't a particle of mink to her 
 name," she objected.
 
 77V QUEBEC 215 
 
 "No matter. Time she had. What is mink, 
 anyhow ? " 
 
 "Like the lining of your coat. Mother wears 
 seal. Don't you know the difference ? " 
 
 "No. They both are skin and thatched with 
 brown hair. Well, if you don't want that, what 
 about the little maple leaf with the garnets ? " 
 
 Day's nose went upward. 
 
 "Tourist-y," she said succinctly. 
 
 "Maybe. Still, it 's pretty, and it 's her birth- 
 stone, too. Why don't we get her some sort of 
 leather thing ? " 
 
 " But we 've bought the dressing-case for father. " 
 
 "What of it?" 
 
 "We don't want to look as if we took advan- 
 tage of wholesale rates," Day suggested. Then 
 she glanced up. "Rob, where is this man tak- 
 ing us ? " 
 
 " 'F I know. I communicated to his ribs an 
 impression that he was to go ahead, and he ap- 
 pears to be going. If he keeps on, I imagine 
 he '11 land in Beauport. Shall I stop him ? " 
 
 "No. Turn him around and head him back 
 into Buade Street. Mother loves furs, and we 'd 
 best get something for her there. I don't know 
 but," Day gave an anxious sigh; "but the bag 
 will be the best thing. Then, if she does n't 
 like it, she can give it to me."
 
 216 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Rob joggled her sociably with his elbow. 
 
 " Well, I like that ! Where do I come in ? " he 
 protested. 
 
 " Boys don't carry bags. What would you do 
 with it ? " 
 
 "Carry it to church, with a span clean hand- 
 kerchief in it, and my offertory penny. Have you 
 bought my present yet, Day ? " 
 
 " Ages ago. Did you get mine ? " 
 
 "How do you know you'll get any?" Then 
 his voice lost its merriment. " I say, Day, what 
 about Janet and Ronald ? " 
 
 "Why, nothing," Day responded blankly. 
 
 " But it seems rather beastly to be in the house 
 with them, and not give them anything." 
 
 "In the South African war, the Boers scalped 
 their enemies on Christmas Eve," she reminded 
 him. 
 
 " I 'm no bore. Neither do I care to offer my 
 scalp to Ronald," he retorted. 
 
 " Ronald is n't a bore. " 
 
 "He bores me." 
 
 Day's eyes belied the gravity of her voice, as she 
 gave rebuke, 
 
 "Rob, I believe you are jealous of Ronald." 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "I don't appear to have much cause." 
 
 "No; but you don't want us to make up, for
 
 IN QUEBEC 217 
 
 fear he '11 get in your way," she persisted 
 merrily. 
 
 To her surprise, she felt Rob's shoulder come 
 close against her own, as he answered with sudden 
 soberness, 
 
 "That 's where you 're right, little sister. 1 'd 
 hate it like fury to come back from New York and 
 find myself sidetracked once more." 
 
 " Once more ? " she echoed. " Were you ever ? " 
 
 He hesitated. Then, 
 
 "Yes, I was," he said; "when I first came." 
 
 As a rule, Day hated demonstrations. Now, 
 under the robe, her hand sought Rob's fingers. 
 
 "You never will be again," she said. And 
 Rob believed her, believed her more, when she 
 added, "Oh, Rob, I wish you did n't have to go! " 
 
 "Only for two weeks," he reminded her. 
 
 " But so much can happen in two weeks. Be- 
 sides, he may keep you longer." 
 
 "I don't see why he should." 
 
 "Nor I. And yet, I get uneasy whenever I 
 think about it. I never felt that way before." 
 She faced him abruptly, and sat looking steadily 
 into his blue eyes. "Rob, you think you have 
 been gaining ? " she asked him. 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "And that your falls and things have n't done 
 you any real harm ? "
 
 218 JANET: HEll WINTER 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
 "And you '11 be all right in time ? " 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 She sank back in her seat, as if reassured. 
 
 "Yes," she said a little wearily; "but the time 
 is so long." 
 
 Rob reached around behind her and pulled the 
 robe into place. For some reason best known to 
 himself, he neglected to withdraw his arm. 
 
 " You hate it, too ? " he queried. 
 
 She nodded vehemently. 
 
 " Yes ; and, the funny thing is, I hate it for my- 
 self even more than I do for you. There are so 
 many things I want to do together, and we can't; 
 and, every now and then, I get to thinking what a 
 chance it is, our being together, this winter, with 
 nothing to do but know each other. We could do 
 so many things, if you only could." 
 
 Rob needed no interpreter to show him the 
 meaning of the final phrase, nor yet of the un- 
 wonted vibrant note in Day's young voice. He 
 drew the robe a little closer and held it there 
 firmly, while he sat silent for a moment, with 
 his blue eyes fixed upon the horizontal wrinkles 
 of coonskin that barred their driver's back. 
 
 "Never mind, Day," he said then. "If I could 
 have done all the things, I 'd have been in Exeter 
 now, not here. Perhaps, all things considered,
 
 IN QUEBEC 219 
 
 it is just as well as it is. Only be sure you 
 miss me, while I 'm gone. " 
 
 She snuggled back against his arm. 
 
 "Miss you, Rob! And you really have to go, 
 next week ? " 
 
 " The twenty-seventh. I '11 be back by the 
 middle of the month, by the latest; and, mind 
 you, Day, you 're to come over to meet me at 
 Levis. No shutting yourself up to peek down 
 at me, this time, when I come in the house ! " 
 
 They both laughed, as at some far-off memory. 
 Then Day asked, 
 
 " And bring Ronald with me ? " 
 
 " If you do, 1 '11 chuck him off the ferry. It 's 
 you I want, Day, not your henchman. " 
 
 "He may not be benching, even by that time," 
 Day answered gayly. " But, Rob, all this is 
 idyllic, and you know I think you are the dearest 
 thing that ever breathed; but here is Buade 
 Street, and we must focus our mind on the ques- 
 tion of mother and all that trail of Ross cousins." 
 
 Rob glanced up at the clock on the City Hall ; 
 then he caressed himself with his unoccupied 
 hand. 
 
 " I 'd rather focus my stomach on some dinner, 
 Day," he objected. "It is half past one by the 
 meetin' house clock, and affection is more enjoy- 
 able than it is filling. Get the bag for mother,
 
 220 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and, if it has to match, order a seal tail hung on 
 each corner. Then get a bunch of assorted hat- 
 pins for the Ross tribe, and come along home to 
 lunch. I '11 give you ten minutes to shop. Out 
 you go, ma'am, and be quick ! " And Rob flapped 
 open the robe and curled up his legs to let her 
 pass him. 
 
 " Oh, how do you do ? I was hoping I 'd see 
 you about, somewhere." 
 
 Day sat down again and drew the robe across 
 her knees. Miss a chance to converse with Sir 
 George Porteous she would not. 
 
 "How do you do?" she answered blithely. 
 "Isn't it cold?" 
 
 " Beastly. It makes a fellow feel quite uncom- 
 fortable. How is your brother's leg ? " Sir George 
 queried, without the slightest apparent conscious- 
 ness that Rob was present to speak for himself. 
 
 " Better, I hope. You are not used up by your 
 yesterday's trip ? " 
 
 "Used up?" 
 
 " Yes. Tired. Worn out," Day explained labo- 
 riously. "We say used up, sometimes." 
 
 " Oh, I see. It 's an Americanism. I hoped 
 1 'd hear some. How interesting ! " Sir George's 
 level voice, however, gave no evidence that the in- 
 terest was overmastering his nerves. "I was 
 looking for you," he added.
 
 IN QUEBEC 221 
 
 "Here?" 
 
 " Oh, no. Anywhere. I 've just been down to 
 the florist shop, not the first florist shop, but the 
 second one, where the pretty girl is. I thought I 
 might meet you on the way. I do seem to meet 
 you, you know, almost everywhere I stop. If you 
 are n't there, when I come, you get there just as I 
 am leaving. But I wanted to see you, to-day." 
 
 " Behold us ! " Rob folded his arms and smirked 
 down at Sir George who gazed back at him in mani- 
 fest bewilderment. 
 
 " Yes, that is what I was saying. I told you, 
 just at first, that I was glad to see you." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," Rob interposed. "You 
 told us 'how do you do.' " 
 
 Again Sir George studied the face before him. 
 Then he gave up the riddle and turned to Day. 
 
 "It will be Christmas, next week," he observed. 
 Then he paused to see how she took the informa- 
 tion. 
 
 She took it calmly. 
 
 "Yes. We were doing our Christmas shop- 
 ping, this morning." 
 
 "And are beastly late about getting home to 
 lunch," Rob added suggestively. 
 
 " So am I. I really am quite hungry. " Then 
 he turned back to Day. "I thought I would give 
 a dinner," he announced.
 
 222 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Day hesitated, slightly at a loss as to what 
 answer she was expected to make. 
 
 "A Christmas dinner ? " she said guardedly. 
 
 " Yes. I like to notice the day. It seems too 
 bad to let it pass without paying any attention to 
 it " Sir George spoke as if the great World Holi- 
 day were a species of puppy, trotting past him in 
 the street. " Of course, when a fellow is away from 
 home, he can't do much about it. Still, it 's a day 
 when one likes to give the children a good time, 
 and all that." 
 
 Day fell in with his mood. She had never 
 liked the man better than now, in his laboured 
 effort to express his sympathy with the real spirit 
 of the Christmas feast. 
 
 "Yes," she said cordially. "It is the chil- 
 dren's day, and they always love it." 
 
 In his eagerness, Sir George clasped his fur- 
 lined gloves upon the side of the sleigh. 
 
 "Yes, that is what I thought. I always like to 
 make some little chap happy on Christmas," he 
 assented. "That's why I am going to give a 
 dinner." 
 
 "How lovely! " Day's mind, used to East Side 
 missions, rushed up and down the city, hunting 
 slums to garnish Sir George's festal board with 
 shivering, starving humanity. " Where are you 
 going to have your dinner?"
 
 IN QUEBEC 223 
 
 "At the hotel, the Chateau, you know." 
 
 Day's face expressed her surprise. She had 
 fancied Sir George as lugging turkeys to the 
 slums, not lugging the slums bodily into the 
 candle-lighted, palm-decked, orchestra-accom- 
 panied glory of the Chateau dining-room. 
 
 " Will they be quite quite quite comfort- 
 able there ? " she asked, in a vain endeavour to 
 convey to Sir George a sense of the incongruity 
 of his details, without seeming to dash cold water 
 upon the heart and core of his plan. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I think so. There 's the lift," 
 Sir George explained; "and it 's always very 
 warm. " 
 
 Day forced her laugh to express only a cheery 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Whom are you going to ask ? " she questioned. 
 
 Sir George's face beamed with a smile of per- 
 fect satisfaction. 
 
 "That 's just it," he observed. "I was looking 
 for you to tell you now. I thought I would invite 
 you and your brother. " 
 
 For an instant, there was a silence. Then 
 gently, very gently, Day spoke. 
 
 " I am sorry, Sir George, more sorry than I can 
 tell you; but Christinas is our home day. We 
 could n't leave our father and mother. " 
 
 Sir George's face fell. Even in her mirth at
 
 224 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 being classed as a little chap, Day pitied the 
 sudden eclipse of his hopes. 
 
 " I am so sorry, " she repeated. 
 
 Sir George's face brightened. 
 
 " You 'd really like to come ? " 
 
 "Yes, if it were possible," Day said politely. 
 
 "Oh. Then make it the week after," he sug- 
 gested, with more alertness than she had ever 
 seen him show. 
 
 Smiling still, Day shook her head. 
 
 "Rob goes to New York, after Christmas. I 
 could n't come without him. " 
 
 Sir George's jaw was plainly sagging. It was 
 obvious that his swift changes of plan were weary- 
 ing him. 
 
 " When do you go ? " he asked, turning to Rob. 
 
 " The twenty-seventh. " 
 
 "Twenty-seventh. Twenty -fifth. " Sir George 
 appeared to be performing a sum in mental arith- 
 metic. " Then make it the twenty-sixth. " 
 
 Day hesitated. Before she could speak, Rob 
 had cut in. 
 
 "All right, Sir George," he said jovially. 
 "Thank you. You can count on us for the 
 night after Christmas." 
 
 Sir George nodded in obvious self-approval. 
 
 "1 'm very glad," he said. "I made sure you 
 would enjoy it. There 's another fellow I think 
 I'll ask, too."
 
 IN QUEBEC 225 
 
 "Another little chap?" Day queried, with an 
 apparent innocence which wellnigh wrecked her 
 brother's gravity. 
 
 " No ; he 's older, quite a man. I only just met 
 him, yesterday ; but I fancy he 'd like to come. 
 We '11 have some bonbons, you know, and a plum 
 pudding, and make quite a thing of it. Good-by. " 
 And Sir George turned away and faced the chilly 
 blast sweeping up from the river far below. 
 
 Rob watched him, as he rounded the corner by 
 the post office and vanished out of sight. Then 
 he turned to Day. 
 
 "Well, little chap," he said; "we 're in for it 
 now. He 's a good little fellow, and I hadn't the 
 heart to disappoint him. We can only hope we 
 don't choke to death at the table. Now do go in 
 and bag the last of your shopping, for I can't live 
 much longer on the anticipations of Sir George's 
 Christmas feast." 
 
 Lunch was a thing of the past, when Rob and 
 Day finally drove up to the Leslie door. Janet 
 had betaken herself back to school long since, 
 and Mrs. Argyle was invisible. Accordingly, 
 Day found it unexpectedly easy to huddle her 
 bundles in her arms and escape to her room, 
 unobserved, before she joined Rob in the aban- 
 doned dining-room. Hungry and a little tired, 
 they lingered long over their meal. When at 
 
 15
 
 226 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 last they left the table and went in search of 
 their mother, they found her in Rob's room, 
 and Rob's half-packed suitcase lay on his bed. 
 
 " Moving ? " he queried. 
 
 " Rob ! How you startled me ! " 
 
 " Sorry, dear. I thought you 'd have heard me 
 come stubbing in; but my fairy footfall must have 
 been uncommonly light. What 's the exodus ? " 
 
 "We are going to Montreal for Christmas." 
 
 " The deuce we" are ! " 
 
 " Yes. Your father telegraphed, this morning. 
 He thinks we 'd enjoy the little change ; and be- 
 sides, it is better to let the Leslies have the day to 
 themselves." 
 
 " Be thanked ! " Rob observed piously. " Day 
 and I were discussing the little item of Peace 
 on Earth, just now, and we had come to the con- 
 clusion that, barring scalping knives, no Christ- 
 mas presents were in order. I 'in glad, though, 
 we '11 be out of the house. " 
 
 " What shall I wear, mother ? " Day demanded. 
 
 "Just like a girl!" Rob made swift comment. 
 " I think I 'd wear a hat and some boots. Mamma, 
 what necktie shall I put on ? Meantime, when do 
 we go ? " 
 
 " To-night. He has some plan for to-morrow. 
 Then we shall be there Sunday and Monday and 
 Christmas, and come back, Wednesday noon, in
 
 IN QUEBEC 227 
 
 time to pack you off to New York, the next 
 day." 
 
 "In time for our dinner party," Rob corrected 
 her. "We are asked out to dinner, the twenty- 
 sixth." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At the Chateau." 
 
 " By whom ? " Mrs. Argyle looked a little 
 uneasy. 
 
 " By Sir George Porteous. " 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "Day's Englishman." 
 
 " Day, dear ? " Mrs. Argyle's two words in- 
 cluded a round dozen of unspoken questions. 
 
 Rob made haste to reassure her. 
 
 " It 's all right, mother. I got acquainted with 
 him, the day I came up, last October. Since then, 
 he 's kept popping up at every turn. He 's the fel- 
 low we took home, last night He 's a gentleman, 
 really, a good fellow, only he has n't any especial 
 brains. You need n't worry. I '11 look out for Day. " 
 
 " But a stranger ? " Mrs. Argyle demurred. 
 
 "That's just the point. He is here alone, 
 doesn't know a soul but us and another little 
 chap." Rob paused to giggle, before he went 
 on, " He 's out here to see the world outside of 
 London, and he hasn't a particle of sense about 
 getting at it, still less about getting acquainted.
 
 228 JANET: II Eli WIN TEH 
 
 He 's lonely, and it 's Christmas, and he wants 
 to have a party. He asked us for Christmas 
 night, on a general theory that children ought 
 to have a Christmas party.'* 
 
 "Oh, he's a child, then?" 
 
 But Rob shook his head. 
 
 "No one can tell. He looks like an Ancient of 
 Days, and he has the pulpy gray matter of a six- 
 months babe. At least, he is innocent, and won't 
 be likely to harm us. Really, mother, if you 'd 
 seen him, you would n't have had the heart to 
 refuse. I '11 tell you about him, on the train. 
 Now do relieve Day's anxiety on the subject of 
 clothes, or she never will get packed in season to 
 get off." 
 
 But Day had settled herself on the foot of 
 the bed. 
 
 "Never mind the clothes," she said. "I want 
 a light frock for dinners, and I know we '11 go 
 to the theatre. Father always takes us. My 
 packing will wait; but not Sir George Porteous. 
 Rob, do show mother how he dangles his jaw 
 when he talks." 
 
 However, Rob had scruples. 
 
 " Too late, Day. We 've agreed to eat his salt, 
 and we can't hoot at him any longer. All in 
 all," he shook his head again and thoughtfully; 
 " I don't know but we 'd have made a better bar-
 
 IN QUEBEC 229 
 
 gain, if we had refused his dinner and kept him 
 in stock as a means of dismissing the blues." 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of Rob's scruples, Mrs. 
 Argyle's face was red and teary, by the time she 
 had heard all the details of the acquaintance of 
 her children with Sir George Porteous. As she 
 rose to resume her interrupted packing, she was 
 ready to agree with Rob that such a host would 
 not be noxious, albeit a stranger. 
 
 Ronald was late in coming up from the Saint 
 Paul Street office, that night. It was later still 
 when Janet came in, for she had telephoned to 
 her mother that she had been asked to dine 
 with a friend. They found the house in all the 
 flurried stir of the Argyles' departure, and, in 
 the midst of the flurry, there was no opportunity 
 to speak of penitence, of Christmas peace, nor yet 
 of the plans for Sir George Porteous's Christmas 
 banquet. 
 
 And so, as it chanced, the holidays found the 
 four young people still walking in their separate 
 paths.
 
 230 JANET: HER WINTKIl 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 DOWN in his office in Saint Paul Street, the 
 next afternoon, Ronald started at the speak- 
 ing of his name, and turned around on his high 
 stool. 
 
 " What 's the row ? " he asked, for the face of 
 his fellow clerk was red with suppressed merri- 
 ment. 
 
 "A fellow to see you." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 "Down in the shop. You'll find him out 
 among the stoves." 
 
 "You need n't be so hilarious about it," Ronald 
 said indolently, as he slid off from his stool and 
 shook himself into presentable condition. "Who- 
 ever the fellow is, he 's my joke, not yours. " And, 
 his rebuke offered, he went tramping down the 
 staircase which led from the offices into the long 
 suite of shops below. 
 
 In the extreme corner of the farthest one, he 
 found Sir George Portcous. Sir George was im- 
 maculately groomed, and, thanks to a mild day, his 
 buttonhole was appropriately garnished. Seated
 
 IN QUEBEC 231 
 
 on one of the low stoves, his hands lightly crossed 
 upon his knee, he presented every appearance of 
 having come to stay throughout the afternoon, if 
 not to take up his permanent abode among the 
 stoves around him. Ronald hailed him from the 
 doorway. 
 
 "How do, Sir George! So you have decided to 
 make us a visit. " 
 
 Sir George looked up at him with a lack-lustre 
 eye. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I merely came to see you. " 
 
 " That 's good ! What if I show you about the 
 place ? " 
 
 Sir George hitched himself into a more perma- 
 nent pose upon his cast-iron pedestal. 
 
 "I am quite comfortable, thank you. I came 
 of an errand." 
 
 "To see the chief?" Ronald queried, for Sir 
 George made no effort to impart to him the sub- 
 ject of any errand, and, quite naturally, he sought 
 about in his mind to discover to whom else the 
 errand would be directed. 
 
 "No; to see you," Sir George made tranquil 
 reply. Then once more he fell silent. 
 
 Ronald waited, waited with one lobe of his 
 brain trained upon the probable future actions 
 of Sir George Porteous, the other upon certain 
 letters which must be sent out by that evening's
 
 232 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 mail. Mercifully, however, the mail did not close 
 until half after eleven, so there was still time for 
 the deliberate mental processes of Sir George 
 Porteous. Ronald shifted his weight to the other 
 foot; then he evened his weight and stood at 
 attention. 
 
 "I am giving a dinner," Sir George announced 
 at length. 
 
 Like Day Argyle, Ronald found himself at a 
 loss as to how he was expected to meet the 
 announcement. 
 
 " How interesting!" he observed dispassionately. 
 
 "Yes. I thought it would be interesting. It 
 will be a Christmas dinner." 
 
 Ronald forced himself to smile cheerily. 
 
 " What a good idea ! " he responded. 
 
 " Yes. It is so tiresome not to pay any atten- 
 tion to the day. This will not be on Christmas, 
 exactly. It will be on the night after." 
 
 Ronald felt his stock of polite phrases running 
 short. 
 
 "Oh," he assented courteously. 
 
 Sir George mistook his brevity for disapproval, 
 not for paucity of ideas. He sought to justify 
 himself. 
 
 "They could n't come on Christmas. They had 
 to stop at home," he explained. "I am asking 
 some children, you know."
 
 IN QUEBEC 233 
 
 "Then you do know people here in Quebec ? " 
 
 "Only some children." Sir George spoke as 
 if the weight of centuries rested upon his slim 
 shoulders. " And that 's what I came down here 
 for really, it 's a beastly way to ask you if 
 you would come and dine, too." 
 
 Ronald looked slightly startled. 
 
 " Oh ; but I 'm no good at amusing children, 
 Sir George," he demurred. 
 
 Sir George shook his head. 
 
 "I expect to amuse them, myself," he said, 
 with a grave unconsciousness of his own ade- 
 quacy to perform that function. 
 
 " Then what do you want of me ? " Ronald 
 queried. 
 
 "Why, to eat, of course," Sir George made 
 cannibalistic reply. "It will be at the Chaieau 
 at seven, the night after Christmas. There will 
 be games in the drawing-room afterwards. You '11 
 let me count on you ? There are not so many 
 people here in town that I know," he added, with 
 an unconscious note of pathos which smote re- 
 bukingly upon Ronald's ear. 
 
 "I'll come, thanks," he responded cheerily; 
 "I'll make a point of being there. At seven, 
 you say ? " 
 
 But Sir George had lapsed into silence again, 
 and sat with his jaw drooping, his eyes fixed
 
 234 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 upon the hearth of the opposite stove. Once more 
 Ronald's mind flashed up the stairs to his aban- 
 doned desk, and he was conscious of a swift desire 
 to kindle a fire and turn on the draughts in the 
 stove beneath his tranquil guest. 
 
 "I say, you haven't anyone you could bring; 
 have you ? Any woman ? " Sir George queried 
 suddenly. 
 
 With marvellous swiftness, Ronald regained 
 his mental poise. 
 
 "My mother is not going out, just now," he 
 replied. 
 
 "Oh; but she would be quite too old," Sir 
 George rejoined. " Who else ? " 
 
 " Who else what ? " Ronald made blank answer. 
 
 " Who else could come ? " 
 
 "But she couldn't." 
 
 "Of course not. You said so. But who else 
 could ? " Sir George asked, with accentless per- 
 sistency. 
 
 "I have a young sister," Ronald suggested 
 dubiously. " She is n't out yet. In fact, she is 
 only a child. And " 
 
 "She'll do," Sir George said placidly. Then 
 he rose from his pedestal and, without another 
 word, smoothed his gloves, grasped his stick and 
 moved away in the direction of the door. 
 
 For the next three days, Janet Leslie gave her-
 
 IN QUEBEC 235 
 
 self over to unmitigated gloatings over the pro- 
 spective feast. According to the fashion of young 
 girlhood, granted a dinner and the fact of her 
 being bidden, she cared little who was the host, 
 or who her fellow guests. A dinner at the 
 Chateau seemed to her a grown-up function, full 
 of mysterious possibilities for all sorts of ele- 
 gance, and she repined in secret over the fact 
 that her only possible costume must be the plain 
 black cloth frock which did duty for Sunday morn- 
 ing church. Janet's ideals would have included 
 a sky-blue frock cut low and a nodding plume in 
 her hair. She knew her mother too well, how- 
 ever, to suggest such dreams to Mrs. Leslie's 
 unresponsive ear. In fact, it had taken some 
 coaxing and much telephonic intercourse with 
 Ronald's chief to coerce Mrs. Leslie into allowing 
 Janet to accept the invitation in the first place. 
 
 The invitation once accepted, however, Janet 
 gave herself over unreservedly to her golden 
 dreams, and her mother, watching, forbore to 
 check her young daughter's imagination. Truth 
 to tell, Christmas would be a dreary little func- 
 tion in the Leslie household, that year; and, Mrs. 
 Leslie's maternal fears regarding Sir George once 
 allayed, she herself was ready to welcome this 
 addition to the meagre Christmas pleasures she 
 had been able to arrange.
 
 236 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 By dint of careful economy and much planning, 
 by help of Ronald's slender salary and the board- 
 money of the Argyles, the Leslies could face the 
 new year with a clean sheet of accounts. True, 
 it had meant the invasion of their home by an 
 alien family; it had meant the giving up to 
 others their pleasantest rooms; it had meant a 
 scrimping behind the scenes to make up for the 
 apparent lavishness of the table, for the Argyles 
 were hungry folk, and dainty withal, and only a 
 small share of their money could go towards the 
 general fund. Mrs. Leslie's hair had whitened 
 beneath the strain, her brows had framed them- 
 selves in wrinkles. Nevertheless, the old year 
 would leave them free from debt, and the new 
 year could bring them no harder problems than 
 those she had so lately faced. Looking to the 
 past half-year, her mood was all of thankfulness 
 that they had gone through it and come out so 
 well. And yet, she would so have loved to be 
 able to make the Christmas merry for her two 
 children. Her third child, a daughter married 
 and living in the States, was out of all this 
 worry. In the midst of her general thanks- 
 giving, Mrs. Leslie found time to rejoice in the 
 joyous letters which had come to her, every week 
 since her daughter's marriage, in early October. 
 
 To Janet, the Argyles' sudden departure for
 
 IN QUEBEC 237 
 
 Montreal had brought a mood of mingled joy and 
 woe. It was a relief to escape for a few days out 
 of the atmosphere of smothered war, to be able to 
 laugh and gossip and to make merry with Ronald 
 over their meals. It was also a relief not to have 
 to sit by and watch Day's overflowing delight in 
 the rich Christmas gifts which were bound to fall 
 to her share. Janet Leslie, as a rule, was above 
 all petty envy ings. Nevertheless, she was human, 
 and not quite fifteen. The darn in the front breadth 
 of her every-day gown had never been quite so man- 
 ifest as on the night when Day came down to din- 
 ner in her new tailor-made frock of Argyle plaid, 
 with its kilted skirt and its wealth of thistle but- 
 tons. And, when she walked home from church 
 to save her streetcar fare, it was exasperating to 
 have to smile blithely in answer to Rob's hat, 
 lifted from a passing sleigh where he and Day sat 
 enthroned in a warm nest of furs. Day cast aside 
 her Dent gloves at the first rubbing of the fingers. 
 Janet darned her woollen mittens, and then darned 
 the darns. And the time was not so very remote 
 when she too had worn Dent gloves and driven in 
 a fur-heaped sleigh. And the girls at school did 
 pity her, and show their pity, too. The mother of 
 one of them had even offered Mrs. Leslie an out- 
 grown coat. The coat was trimmed with lamb, 
 and it fitted. Mrs. Leslie had accepted it with
 
 238 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 quiet gratitude. It now hung on a nail in the 
 garret, and Janet wore her last-year one. It was 
 dyed, and frayed on the cuffs, and narrow about 
 the shoulder-blades. Nevertheless, it was her 
 very own, not the offering of a benevolent, but 
 tactless charity. It was her own, and she would 
 wear it till water ran in the spring. She stated 
 her resolution valiantly, and Ronald upheld her 
 in it. Mrs. Leslie made no comment; but she 
 felt a slight uneasiness, as she bethought herself 
 of the dainty little fur-lined jacket which Mrs. 
 Argyle had left in her keeping, when she went 
 up to Montreal. 
 
 "I was getting one like it for Day," she had 
 explained ; " and I really could n't resist this. I 
 am fond of Janet, you know ; she is such a plucky 
 little woman." And her parting kiss to Janet 
 had given proof of her words. 
 
 Janet, her cheek still warm with the kiss, her 
 ears still ringing with Rob's off-hand farewell, 
 was surprised to find how still and empty the 
 house seemed to her, after the stir of their going. 
 Rob and Day had been late to two meals, that 
 day ; she herself had been absent from the third. 
 Accordingly, she had not seen them since her 
 talk with Ronald of the night before, and she 
 had been altogether relieved when her mother's 
 news of the trip to Montreal had made it plainly
 
 IN QUEBEC 239 
 
 evident that her dreaded apology must be post- 
 poned. She had expected to find unmixed pleas- 
 ure in the sight of the Argyle backs. Instead of 
 that, the house seemed dull and a bit lonesome. 
 
 To the young Leslies, Christmas passed quietly, 
 with simple gifts and simpler feastings. To the 
 young Argyles, it was a round of merry-making, 
 gifts and goodies abounding, a long drive to make 
 appetite for the elaborate dinner, and the theatre 
 to wind up the day. It had been late, that night, 
 when Rob and his sister had started to their 
 rooms; but, even then, they had lingered long 
 in the hall outside their doors, talking over the 
 jolliest Christmas they had ever spent. Never- 
 theless, no trace of sleepiness was in Day's eyes, 
 the next night, as she stood before the glass, 
 dressing herself for Sir George's dinner. 
 
 In the eyes of grown-up womanhood, the dress 
 of a young girl is a simple thing and of small 
 account. The girl herself is of a wholly different 
 impression. Day, screwing herself about to reach 
 the hooks on the back of her yoke, shaking her 
 shoulders to settle the yoke into place, tying her 
 wide silk sash, then turning it around into its 
 proper place and softly patting it into position, 
 before clasping her beads around her neck ; Day, 
 adding the final touch of the brush and giving 
 a last cock to the ribbon on her hair, was as
 
 240 JANET: HER WINTIIR 
 
 earnest, as absorbed in the process of beautify- 
 ing herself as was ever a bud on the eve of her 
 first reception. And, after all, the gown was 
 only a plain white cloth with a little lace tucker 
 which came softly about the base of her round 
 young throat; the beads were only cairngorms 
 set in silver, the gift of her grandmother far off 
 in Scotland. The whole costume, though the work 
 of skilful hands, was simple and girlish as the happy 
 face above it. Nevertheless, Rob, coming into the 
 room and halting at her side, bowed low in ad- 
 miration half-mocking, half-sincere. 
 
 "Lovely vision!" ho observed. "I like your 
 shoes best; they're so nice and shiny. Would 
 that gown smash, if I hugged you ? " 
 
 "Try it and see," she dared him. 
 
 But he backed off and brandished his stick. 
 
 " Not much ! You would muss up my curls. 
 Does my coat-tail hang right, and is my necktie 
 becoming ? " Gravely he turned himself about 
 for approval, while Day mocked at him, though 
 all the time convinced that few girls, Canadian 
 or American, could produce so desirable a 
 brother. 
 
 "What do you suppose is the row with the 
 Leslies ? " Rob asked, tranquilly dropping into 
 a chair, as soon as the inspection was ended. 
 
 Day had been giving all her attention to a
 
 IN QUEBEC 241 
 
 refractory lock of hair. Now she faced about 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Is Janet on her nerves again ? " she demanded. 
 
 "Not nerves, exactly; at least, not as far as I 
 am concerned. She is on the rampage, though, 
 about something. She and Ronald appear to be 
 going out somewhere together. She has been 
 stamping around her room until I was afraid 
 she would land down on my head through the 
 ceiling. Once she came to the door and be- 
 sought somebody to come and hook up her back, 
 whatever that may mean." 
 
 "It probably means she couldn't reach it, her- 
 self," Day interpreted calmly, as she patted her 
 own yoke into more perfect adjustment. " Where 
 is Ronald ? " 
 
 "In his room, pumping his bureau drawers in 
 and out as if he mistook them for an accordeon. 
 His nerves are getting on him, I 'ni afraid. He 
 came in late, and took the stairs four at a time, 
 shouting to Janet to hurry, or they 'd be late. It 
 must be a citadel ball, at the very least, to in- 
 spire so much prinking. It 's a great thing to be 
 a born Quebecker. There 's the carriage, ma'am. 
 Where 's your cloak ? " And he rose with the 
 little deference which he showed, first of all, to 
 the women of his own family. 
 
 In a snug little den at the northern end of the 
 16
 
 242 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 long chain of drawing-rooms they found Sir George 
 awaiting them, an impressive and elegant Sir 
 George, whose manner seemed to have gained 
 starch from the vast expanse of his evening linen. 
 Even to Day's uncritical eye, he looked unneces- 
 sarily black and white, against the ruby-coloured 
 room, whose plain red walls were dotted thickly 
 with English racing prints. One table in a corner 
 was heaped with games, flanked by a tray of bon- 
 bons which obviously held cracker caps beneath 
 their gilt and silver rolls. The other table held a 
 vast bran pie, surrounded by sundry knobby parcels 
 which had defied Sir George's efforts to pack them 
 within his Christmas pastry. 
 
 Sir George came forward to meet them hospi- 
 tably, albeit his face showed misgivings. 
 
 "Oh, I say, how do you do?" he said. " How 
 rummy you both look ! But I fancy you 're too 
 early." 
 
 " You said seven ; did n't you ? " Rob asked, as he 
 crumpled Sir George's fingers in his grasp. 
 
 " Yes ; but the other fellow is n't here yet. It 's 
 ten to, now. He '11 be here soon, I fancy. I told 
 him he'd better bring his sister. I thought you 
 would have a better time, if I asked another girl," 
 he added, turning to Day. 
 
 " Thank you. It will be better," she assented 
 politely. " What a lovely room ! "
 
 IN QUEBEC 243 
 
 " Yes. I told the fellow in the office that I must 
 have it, for to-night. It will be good for the games, 
 you know ; and I can tell you stories about the pic- 
 tures, by and by. That 's how we hunt in England, 
 you know," Sir George explained, with unwonted 
 energy. 
 
 " Yes, I remember," Day replied, as she crossed 
 the room to look at a print on the opposite wall. 
 " Look, Rob ! That 's just the way it was at Cops- 
 ley Heath. I was in England once," she added, 
 facing about to include their host in the talk. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I fancy not," he returned, with astound- 
 ing irrelevance. " By George, here comes the other 
 fellow, now ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he stepped forward to greet his be- 
 lated guests, while, on the opposite side of the room, 
 Rob and Day waited, Rob's yellow hair and Day's 
 white frock standing out sharply against the deep 
 red background. Steps sounded in the hall, a uni- 
 formed boy led the way to the door, then moved 
 aside to allow the guests to pass in before him. 
 An instant later, Sir George was shaking hands 
 with Ronald Leslie and Janet. 
 
 The silence which followed, utter, profound and of 
 absolute stupefaction, was weighted with a meaning 
 too strong for any words. Janet stared at Rob, 
 Day at Ronald, while Sir George Porteous stared 
 at all four of them in turn, stared and smiled hi
 
 244 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 pleased contentment with the scene. Then, just 
 as the pause was growing too long for Sir George's 
 perfect pleasure, just as there was dawning upon him 
 the need to break it, Rob rallied from his stupefac- 
 tion and dashed forward to meet the emergency. 
 
 " Hullo, old man ! " he hailed Ronald, with dis- 
 respectful cordiality. " Delighted to see you ! We 
 had no notion that you were coming, too. Hullo, 
 Janet ! How stunning you look ! I speak to take 
 you out to dinner." Then, smiling broadly, he 
 turned upon Sir George. " Why did n't you tell 
 us," he demanded of his astonished host; "why 
 did n't you tell us that you were going to treat us 
 to a family party ? " 
 
 And, in the burst of half-hysterical mirth which 
 followed on Rob's words, Sir George Porteous lost 
 hts final fears for the success of his Christmas 
 feast.
 
 IN QUEBEC 245 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 LATE the next afternoon, Rob found himself 
 sliding away to the southward through the 
 snow-heaped Townships. His departure had sa- 
 voured of a diminutive ovation. Sir George had 
 come sauntering up from the Chateau in time to 
 see the sleigh drive away from the door, Ronald 
 had left his office stool long enough to dash 
 around to the ferry-house for a farewell handclasp, 
 and, as a matter of course, Day had gone across 
 with him and seen him settled in his car. Most of 
 all, though, Rob had cared for Janet's tempestuous 
 farewell. Invisible at lunch, she had remained in- 
 visible until the sleigh was at the door. Then, 
 just as Rob had picked up his suitcase for the 
 third time, she had come rushing down the stairs. 
 
 " Good-by, you nice old thing ! " she said un- 
 steadily. " And be sure you come back soon, able 
 to take me snow-shoeing." And, as she spoke, 
 she had crowded a little note into Rob's hand, out- 
 stretched in farewell. 
 
 The note was in his hand now. A vague respect 
 for Janet's dumb mood had kept him from show-
 
 246 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 ing it to Day, and it was not until he had come in 
 from the rear platform and the little gray-coated 
 figure had vanished from sight, that he had 
 opened it and read the penitent, girlish words 
 within. For a moment, he had sat with his eyea 
 fixed unseeingly upon the ice-filled river and the 
 frozen cone of Montmorency beyond. Then, turn- 
 ing about, he had hailed the conductor. 
 
 " Oh, it 's you ; is it ? " he said cheerily. " I 'ra 
 in luck to find you again. But tell me, can I send 
 a telegram back from one of these metropolises ?" 
 
 And Janet went to bed, that night, with peace 
 in her conscience and Rob's telegram beneath her 
 pillow. 
 
 Rob, meanwhile, had sat long, staring down at 
 the little note in his hand, reading between its few 
 short lines the things that Janet would not say. 
 It had not been easy for her to write that note. 
 Of so much he was certain. Under her demure 
 exterior, she was high-spirited, imperious, a bit 
 unyielding. Rob shook his head to himself. The 
 note had been inspired by conscience ; that was 
 evident. Would her conscience, however, have 
 been so active, had she not liked him in the first 
 place ? Rob adored Day. He also liked Janet, 
 and he was surprised to find how anxious he was 
 to hold her liking in return. Her very quickness 
 won his admiration, and matched something which
 
 IN QUEBEC 247 
 
 at times came uppermost in his own mood. With 
 Day first and foremost in his heart and life and 
 interests, he yet had room in his affection for 
 Janet, and he rejoiced unfeignedly, now that the 
 long feud was ended. Two weeks in New York, 
 and then they would slip back into their old good 
 times ! 
 
 Viewed in the light of the previous evening and 
 of his hearty good-by, even Ronald seemed more 
 attractive, more interesting and infinitely more 
 alive. It had been Ronald, the night before, who 
 had rushed into the breach at Rob's heels. Sir 
 George, blandly unconscious that anything had 
 ever been amiss, was fussing about the table where 
 his Christmas pie was baking, and the two girls 
 had been as if stricken dumb. It was upon Rob 
 and Ronald, then, that the stress of the next ten 
 minutes had fallen, and Ronald had played his 
 part like a man, played it so valiantly that, by 
 the time the waiter came to announce the dinner, 
 the last of the ice had melted, and an hilarious, 
 wholly friendly quartette had followed Sir George 
 down the great dining-room to the table spread 
 before the fire-place at the farther end. Later, too, 
 much later, it had been Ronald, quiet and digni- 
 fied no longer, who had assisted Sir George in the 
 carving of the Christmas pie. 
 
 Even now, Rob could scarcely trust his own
 
 248 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 memory, as he recalled the droll and freakish 
 comments with which the tall Canadian had drawn 
 forth the odd assortment of budgets from within. 
 For the hour, Rob had been quite willing to watch 
 the course of events from a back seat. Up to then, 
 he had had no notion that Ronald Leslie's mind 
 held any trace of skittish humour. Now he began 
 to doubt. And, in the intervals, he watched Janet 
 whose plain black frock and demure manner were 
 powerless to conceal her overflowing spirits. Later 
 still, Rob had gone to the piano and pounded out 
 a rag-time melody, linked to strange, sad chords 
 that moaned away among the bass, and the little 
 red room had echoed with laughter at Day's efforts 
 to teach Sir George to dance with the American 
 ease and swing. The laughter was still in the air, 
 when the Argyles' sleigh had been announced ; and 
 it had been at Ronald's suggestion, not Rob's, that 
 they had packed themselves into it, Sir George and 
 all, and gone for a moonlight turn out the Grande 
 Allde and home again by Saint John Street. It 
 was late for the girls ; but what matter ? Such 
 things happen only once a year; perhaps, in all 
 their details, only once a lifetime. And Janet had 
 sat on her brother's knee, and Sir George had 
 been huddled down on the floor of the sleigh among 
 all their feet ; and the very moon had laughed, 
 gazing down upon the merry load of youngsters,
 
 IN QUEBEC 249 
 
 as they went driving away out of the Chateau 
 court. 
 
 And now, as the early twilight cast its long blue 
 shadows across the snow, Rob was sliding south- 
 ward, and the old gray city on the cliff was grow- 
 ing vague as the shadow of a happy dream. 
 
 " You Ve had enough of winter ? " 
 
 Rob glanced up. The Pullman conductor, his 
 duties done, was sitting down in the section across 
 the aisle. 
 
 " No ; worse luck ! I hate to leave it." 
 
 " And you have to ? " 
 
 " I must. I 'm in for two weeks of the doctor." 
 
 " Not worse ? " Both voice and eyes were wholly 
 kind. 
 
 " No ; better, a good deal. I 've gained, ever 
 since I went up there. My man told me to come 
 back to him for some more treatment, and I 'm 
 bound to go. I hate it, though." 
 
 "You like the place?" 
 
 " New York ? " Rob queried. 
 
 " No ; of course, one likes that. I mean Quebec." 
 
 Rob recalled his glance from the row of coon- 
 coated habitants on the platform of a wayside sta- 
 tion, and gave terse answer. 
 
 " I adore it." 
 
 His companion laughed. 
 
 " We don't often hear you Americans speak so
 
 250 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 warmly of us. We like it, too. By the way, do 
 you remember the Englishman I carried down, the 
 day you came ? " 
 
 " Down ? " Rob echoed blankly. 
 
 " Down to Quebec. I mean the fellow with the 
 accent and the luggage. I met him in the street, 
 the other night." 
 
 Rob nodded. 
 
 " He 's still there ; I 've seen him often. He is 
 a living joke ; but he 's done me one or two good 
 turns." And, as the conductor rose to go his busy 
 way, Rob lost himself in wondering what was hap- 
 pening, just then, inside the Leslie home. 
 
 Supper was happening just then ; and, quite nat- 
 urally, the conversation was following the traveller 
 to the southward. Mrs. Argyle was full of talk 
 and of maternal worries ; but Day was uncommonly 
 still. It seemed so strange, when she raised her 
 eyes from her plate, not to find Rob's yellow head 
 opposite her, not to meet the laugh in his honest, 
 keen blue eyes. She wondered if he would find the 
 good-night letter she had tucked into a corner of 
 his suitcase, folded in the tissue-paper nightcap 
 which she had brought away from Sir George's party. 
 
 As she left the table, and started up the stairs to 
 her own room, uncertain whether to read one of 
 her Christmas books, or to indulge in a good, com- 
 fortable cry, Ronald hailed her from below.
 
 7iV QUEBEC 251 
 
 " Whither ? " he asked. 
 
 " Upstairs." 
 
 " But why ? Come and frolic on the terrace with 
 Janet and me. There 's a splendid moon." 
 
 His accent was inviting ; his smile was more so. 
 Day's step stayed itself. 
 
 " Are you sure you want me ? " she asked irres- 
 olutely. 
 
 " Sure. Else we 'd not be asking you." 
 
 Day took swift note of the friendly tact which 
 had included Janet in the invitation. Then she 
 sent a thought hurrying after Rob, a hasty wonder 
 whether he could count it disloyal to him that, the 
 moment he was away from her, she should so nat- 
 urally turn to Ronald for companionship. Then 
 scornfully she dismissed the wonder. By this time, 
 Rob knew her too well to doubt her loyalty. Had 
 the past two months existed solely for the purpose 
 of welding the brother and sister together, they 
 would yet have been worth the while. Rob gone, 
 there was no especial sense in her shutting herself 
 up to pindle and pine over his absence. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " I '11 go." 
 
 Half the Quebec world was out upon the terrace, 
 that night. From far up on the glacis beneath the 
 King's Bastion, the long toboggan slide stretched 
 steeply down, then cut its level way across the ter- 
 race to the very feet of the Sieur de Champlain at
 
 252 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 the northern end. Between the gleaming chains of 
 electric lights, the double lines of toboggans were 
 charging down the slope and out upon the level 
 course below, while, from the gay groups mounting 
 the steps or gathered waiting at the top of the 
 slides, light talk and laughter came floating down 
 to mingle with the strident buzz of the toboggans 
 and the shriller cries of their excited freight. Along 
 the surface of the wide, ice-dotted river beneath, 
 long banners of white trailed down from the lights 
 of Levis. Far down the northern channel, the 
 clustered dots of light marked the foot of Mont- 
 morency Falls, while, faint in the purple distance, 
 yet another huddle of lights showed the spot where 
 the faithful, even in the heart of winter, keep watch 
 and ward over the sacred shrine of the Good Saintc 
 Anne. And above it all, more dazzling than all, 
 the round white winter moon rode proudly upward 
 across a cloud-flecked sky. 
 
 Six times, Ronald brought his toboggan to the 
 top of the slide and settled the two girls comfort- 
 ably in their places. Six times, they made the 
 breathless, swooping flight downward, the long, 
 ecstatic course out across the level. Six times, 
 their ears drummed with the grinding hum of the 
 toboggan, their pulses beat with the thrill of excite- 
 ment, their cheeks glowed with the impact of the 
 cold, still air. Then, as the toboggan slowly lost
 
 IN QUEBEC 253 
 
 its impetus and came to a halt, Janet, springing to 
 her feet, was surrounded with an eager group of 
 her schoolmates. 
 
 " Come down with us," they begged. 
 
 Janet shook her head. 
 
 "Just this once," they pleaded. 
 
 Janet spoke to Ronald ; hut she looked at Day. 
 
 " Would you mind so very much ? " she asked 
 dubiously. 
 
 Ronald laughed. 
 
 " Glad to have you. It will give us just so much 
 more room. Come, Day, we '11 race them to the 
 top of the slide." And presently they were once 
 more skimming the surface of the terrace, past the 
 bandstand, past the guns, past the entrance to the 
 Chateau court, and on and on until Ronald steered 
 the toboggan sharply to one side, to avoid hitting 
 the rail at the extreme northern end of the terrace. 
 
 Day laughed, as she scrambled to her feet. 
 
 " The farthest yet ! " she commented. " It is such 
 glorious fun. Why have n't I tried it before ? " 
 
 " The slide is only just ready. This is the 
 second night it has been lighted. Do you know, I 
 should think Rob could go in for this." 
 
 " Except for the climb back up the slide ; he 
 never could do that, not this winter, at least." As 
 she spoke, she stepped forward and stood leaning 
 on the rail.
 
 254 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " How long do you think " Ronald said, as he 
 joined her there. 
 
 Swiftly she interrupted him. 
 
 " Ronald, I don't know. Sometimes, I think it 
 won't be long, think it does n't amount to much ; 
 sometimes, I get desperate. It 's a cruel game, that 
 football ; it has done harm enough, even if Rob 
 does take it all as a grand joke. Down under- 
 neath, I know he has hated it, all this last year, 
 the being out of things. And it is so slow. We 
 hoped that six months more would see him out 
 of it." 
 
 Ronald spoke slowly, his eyes on the far-off 
 cluster of tiny lights. 
 
 " What a plucky chap he is ! I wish I had half 
 of his grit." 
 
 " Perhaps there are two sorts," Day answered 
 gently. 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 She looked up at him and, as her brown eyes 
 rested upon his, something in their expression 
 reminded him of that far-away day when they had 
 gone to the fort at Levis. 
 
 " I mean that there are other hurts besides those 
 one gets in football." 
 
 " Yes," he assented slowly. " Yes, there arc." 
 
 " And that it takes fully as much pluck to meet 
 them."
 
 IN QUEBEC 255 
 
 " Yes," he assented again. " Yes, it does." 
 
 Then there came a little pause between them, 
 and the pause lengthened. Under its spell, the 
 voices on the slide behind them grew faint and 
 indistinct, and the strident hum of many toboggans 
 lost itself in the throbbing beat of the little ferry- 
 boat just swinging out into the stream. Suddenly 
 Day spoke. 
 
 " Ronald," she asked ; " do you remember that 
 day at Levis ? " 
 
 " I was just thinking about it," he replied. 
 
 " So was I, and I 've been ashamed of myself, 
 while I thought." 
 
 " Ashamed, Day ? " 
 
 " Yes, ashamed," she answered vehemently. 
 " No, wait. Let 's talk it out. We did talk it out, 
 that day ; at least, a little bit. You told me then 
 how you had had to give up college and all that, 
 how you had had to start fresh and make your 
 own way. I told you then that I knew you 'd do it, 
 that no one of your friends would be gladder about 
 it than I." 
 
 " And would they ? " he questioned, as she came 
 to a dead halt. 
 
 She made a little gesture of despair. 
 
 " I 'm afraid they would ; at least, if you can tell 
 anything from the way I 've treated you. I 've 
 been horrid, Ronald, when I might have helped."
 
 256 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "But " 
 
 Impetuously she interrupted him. 
 
 " There is n't any but. When you told me, that 
 day, I did n't think much about it, what it all must 
 mean. Since then, you 've told me more ; I 've 
 seen the rest. I know now, how you 've scrimped 
 and saved and worked and gone without things, so 
 that " 
 
 " But I have n't," he broke in sturdily. 
 
 " Yes ; I 've watched you. I know when you are 
 worried and tired ; I knew what it meant, when 
 you gave up the Snowshoe Club." 
 
 Under the electric light above their heads, she 
 could see the colour rushing to his cheeks. 
 
 " You 're talking nonsense, Day." 
 
 " It may be nonsense ; but it is the truth," she 
 retorted fearlessly. " I have n't lived in the house 
 with you for three whole months, without learning 
 to know you a little bit. And I know one tiling 
 more." 
 
 " And that ? " he queried, supplying the question 
 for which her pause was plainly asking. 
 
 " And that is, that, when you were carrying all 
 this care and work and worry, I 'd much better 
 have stuck to you and been friends and helped you 
 to frivol and forget things, when you could. In- 
 stead of that, I lost my temper and sulked and let 
 you alone. I 'in sorry, Ronald, sorry and ashamed.
 
 IN QUEBEC 257 
 
 I won't do it any more. Let 's shake hands on it, 
 and then, if you want to scold me afterwards, I '11 
 give you leave." And she held out her hand to 
 him, with a glance which was half-whimsical and 
 wholly appealing. 
 
 Ronald pulled off his mittens and took the out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 " We '11 let_the scolding go, Day," he answered. 
 " I did hate the row, though. Still, it is over now ; 
 and I fancy the old days are going to come again." 
 
 But Day shook her head. 
 
 " Like last fall ? " she questioned. " Never." 
 
 Ronald's face fell. 
 
 " Why not ?" he asked slowly. 
 
 Gently she took away her hand, and stood for a 
 moment with her eyes resting 011 the southern 
 hills. 
 
 " Because," she answered, and her voice was full 
 of her content ; " because then there was n't any 
 Rob." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " Janet's voice sounded in their 
 ears. " I wish you 'd stop mooning there beside 
 the rail, and talk to me. I 'm lonesome." 
 
 " You should n't have deserted us, then," Ronald 
 said, as he linked his arm in hers. 
 
 She made a little grimace of disgust. 
 
 "I wish I hadn't. Those children don't know 
 how to steer they landed me on my nose in front 
 
 17
 
 258 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 of the statue. I bit the dust and scraped the skin 
 off my elbow. Why arc n't you sliding ? " 
 
 " We stopped to talk." 
 
 "Evidently." Janet sniffed disdainfully. "I 
 should think you might talk enough in the house, 
 and not waste this gorgeous moonlight. What 
 were you talking about ? " 
 
 " Rob." 
 
 Janet spun about to face Day. 
 
 " Oh, were you ? And I was thinking about him. 
 Just before I went off the toboggan, I hit upon the 
 loveliest idea." 
 
 " Most likely that was what upset the toboggan, 
 Janet," Ronald suggested unkindly. " What was 
 the idea." 
 
 " Let 's write to Sidney." 
 
 " She owes me a letter now." 
 
 " Well, I owe her one, so we 're even. But I 
 mean about Rob." 
 
 What about him ? " 
 
 " That he 's there." 
 
 " Sidney will be thrilled," Ronald said dryly, for, 
 all the last weeks of the previous summer, he had 
 been accustomed to regard Sidney Stayrc as his 
 own particular comrade, and he had no especial 
 desire to admit others to the comradeship. 
 
 Janet gave a little stamp of sheer impatience. 
 
 " Don't tease, Ronald. Else, I '11 be cross," she
 
 IN QUEBEC 259 
 
 warned him. Then she turned to Day. " Don't 
 you think it would be good ? " she asked. " Sidney 
 lives there and she is a darling. She would love to 
 know Rob, because he 's been with us, all winter, 
 and could tell her all the news, all the things there 
 is n't time to write. She would ask him to see her, 
 and make it ever so nice for him." 
 
 " Steady, Janet ! " Ronald laid a brotherly hand 
 upon her shoulder, as there came a pause in her 
 eager speech. " Remember that Rob has been in 
 New York always, and has his own friends there. 
 He most likely does n't need to have you find him 
 any new ones." 
 
 However, to Ronald's surprise, Day ranged her- 
 self on Janet's side. 
 
 " It 's a good idea, Janet. Write to Sidney, as 
 soon as you can. Rob is bound to be lonely. He 
 is going to be in the hospital, where he can have 
 treatment, every day, and that will take him miles 
 and miles from where we live. Most of his friends 
 are away at school, anyway, and he has n't told a 
 soul he is to be in town. You write to Sidney, in 
 the morning ; and I '11 send a note to Rob, to look 
 out for a message from her." Then she turned 
 back to Ronald. " Come," she said ; " shall we 
 have one more last slide, before it gets too late?" 
 And, with a Leslie upoir either hand, she went back 
 into the heart of the throng.
 
 260 JANET: HER 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 LESS than a week later, tragedy befell Ronald 
 Leslie. It befell by way of Fainille Street 
 hill and a dust-covered streak of ice, and it sent 
 him home to nurse a sprained wrist. The tragedy 
 took place at noon of Saturday. On Sunday morn- 
 ing, just as the boom of the Basilica bells came 
 crashing down across the clean, cold air, Sir 
 George Porteous mounted the Leslie steps, and 
 asked to see Ronald. 
 
 " Good morning," he greeted his host. " I heard 
 you were ill, you know. I thought you 'd be in 
 bed." 
 
 His accent was rebuking. For reply, Ronald 
 held up his bandaged wrist. 
 
 "This is all the damage. But how did you 
 hear?" 
 
 " At dinner, last night." 
 
 " Oh, you dined with the chief ? " 
 
 " Yes, he invited me," Sir George made level 
 answer. " He told me you were injured." 
 
 Ronald laughed.
 
 IN QUEBEC 261 
 
 " He told the truth. I 'm injured in my body and 
 my pocket." 
 
 Sir George sat gazing up at him with wrinkled 
 brow. Ronald, tall and hearty and handsome, as 
 he stood leaning against the mantel, was scarcely 
 the sort of invalid Sir George had expected to 
 find. 
 
 " You had your hand in your pocket ? " he 
 queried at length. 
 
 " No. I laid it down in front of me and fell down 
 on top of it." 
 
 "You must be very heavy," Sir George made 
 thoughtful comment. 
 
 " I am, amazingly." 
 
 Sir George's voice took on a minor key. 
 
 " I am very sorry. It must have hurt you." 
 
 " It did, like the deuce," Ronald responded 
 fervently. 
 
 " I am really sorry." Sir George's voice, ac- 
 centless though it was, yet left no doubt of his sin- 
 cerity. " I have n't many friends here, you know, 
 and it makes a fellow sorry, when one of them gets 
 hurt. Will it last you long ? " 
 
 " A week or so." Ronald crossed the room and 
 flung himself into a chair. "That's the beastly 
 part of it." 
 
 " Is it so very painful ? " 
 
 " No ; but it knocks me out of going to the office."
 
 262 JANET: HE 11 WINTER 
 
 Sir George leaned back in his chair and straight- 
 ened out his legs. 
 
 " I should n't think you 'd mind," he said placidly. 
 
 " But I do." 
 
 " Mind missing the chance of sitting on a stool ? " 
 
 Ronald coloured. 
 
 " Mind not getting paid for it," he answered 
 briefly. 
 
 " Oh ; but they don't pay a fellow enough to 
 count for much," Sir George reminded him. 
 
 " It counts to me," Ronald answered still more 
 briefly. " I need the money." 
 
 Sir George drew off his glove, drew out his 
 handkerchief, then paused with the handkerchief 
 suspended in mid-air. 
 
 " Need the money for what, old man ? " he 
 asked, and there was an indescribable kindliness 
 in his voice which Ronald found it hard to 
 resent. 
 
 " Need it to run things," he replied carelessly. 
 " I am a family man, Sir George." 
 
 Slowly Sir George shook his head. 
 
 "I am afraid I don't understand," he said 
 vaguely. 
 
 Ronald gave one comprehensive glance at the 
 figure before him. 
 
 " No," he said then ; " I 'm afraid you don't." 
 
 There came a long, long silence, while Sir George
 
 IN QUEBEC 263 
 
 appeared to be communing with himself. Suddenly 
 he looked up. 
 
 " I say," he said alertly ; " would you be able 
 to go for a drive ? You could have a cushion and 
 things, and it 's a jolly sort of day." 
 
 Ronald hesitated. While he was hesitating, his 
 mother came into the room, and Sir George sprang 
 to his feet. 
 
 " I did n't suppose the fellow had it in him," 
 Ronald said, late that night. 
 
 " You can't tell, by looking at a toad, how far 
 he '11 hop," Day quoted succinctly, from her scat 
 across the room. 
 
 And Janet added, 
 
 " And every clown has his sober minutes." 
 
 But Ronald shook his head. 
 
 " Not all clown, either. He may not be a 
 genius; but he's a good-hearted little chap, and, 
 once he gets to talking, he has an occasional idea." 
 
 " Semi-occasional, you mean," Day corrected 
 him. 
 
 Ronald, however, was on the defensive. 
 
 " Anyway, he was the first person to come to ask 
 after my broken bones," he retorted. " That is 
 something, and I was glad when the mater was 
 inspired to be nice to him." 
 
 " Were n't we all nice to him ? " Janet inter- 
 posed. " I let him sit in Rob's place, and put the
 
 264 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 sugar in his tea. Day showed him pictures, and 
 Mrs. Argyle made up some sort of an acquaintance 
 with his step-mother. What more could you ask ? " 
 
 Mrs. Argyle glanced up from her book. Day had 
 coaxed the two young Leslies into her sitting-room 
 where she sat reading and contributing an occa- 
 sional phrase to the talk. 
 
 " I did n't have to make it up, Janet. I knew 
 Lady Dudsworth well ; she was very nice to me, 
 the first time I was in England. I remember this 
 boy, for he was a boy then ; but I had forgotten his 
 name." 
 
 " How old is he ? " came in duet from Day and 
 Janet. 
 
 But Mrs. Argyle pursued her own train of 
 thought. 
 
 " Lady Dudsworth is a delightful woman. It 
 seems that she gave Sir George a letter to me in 
 New York. For her sake, I should like to be kind 
 to him." 
 
 Day shook her head. 
 
 " Then, after all, it is another case of Kismet" 
 she said whimsically. " We met in the fort at 
 Levis. Remember, Ronald ? And Rob met him 
 in the train. Now what do you propose to do 
 about it all?" 
 
 " Make it as pleasant for him as I can," Mrs. 
 Argyle said decidedly.
 
 IN QUEBEC 265 
 
 " Mother ! That monkey ! " 
 
 Mrs. Argyle smiled. 
 
 " Too late, Day ! As Rob said, you 've eaten his 
 salt." 
 
 But Day protested. 
 
 " I don't see what that has to do with it. Be- 
 sides, it was Rob, not I, who accepted the invita- 
 tion. He 's funny ; I like to hear him talk. Still, 
 he drives me frantic, he is so immortally futile. 
 Think of him, mother, beside our Rob ! " 
 
 And, in spite of herself, Mrs. Argyle laughed, as 
 she made answer, 
 
 " Day, I can't." 
 
 However, Ronald had the last word. 
 
 " He may be futile, and he may be funny," he 
 said. " Still, as I said, he is a good-hearted little 
 chap ; and, between you and the chief, Mrs. Ar- 
 gyle, we have proved that he's socially sound. 
 You girls can do as you like; but, for my part, 
 I hope he '11 come again." 
 
 Sir George did come again, and yet again. 
 Under his languid, futile exterior, he had a heart 
 that was singularly human and boyish ; and his 
 heart had been touched by the welcome accorded 
 him at the Sunday night supper which had followed 
 their drive. Sent out from England in deference 
 to the general theory that a potential heir should 
 see something of the colonies before settling down
 
 266 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 for life in the home kingdom, Sir George had been 
 a lonely British stranger in a strange French city. 
 Somewhere in the core of his being was a fervent 
 love of children and of home. His Christinas party 
 had testified to the one ; his eager acceptance of 
 Mrs. Leslie's invitation had borne witness to the 
 other. 
 
 Even Ronald had been surprised at Sir George, 
 that night at supper. Shining social success he 
 would never be ; but, under the friendly question- 
 ings of Mrs. Leslie, somewhat of his vacant futility 
 had dropped from him, and he had told her of his 
 home life, speaking with a simple dignity which 
 was new to all their eyes. It was then that Mrs. 
 Argyle had made her discovery of his kinship to 
 Lady Dudsworth, and, in the talk which followed, 
 Sir George had wakened into something resembling 
 a normal man. Funny he was and would be, 
 consummately funny. Nevertheless, when he said 
 good night and went his way, he left behind him 
 an impression of gentle breeding and kindly 
 thoughtfulness which went far to atone for his 
 mental eccentricities. 
 
 "I hope you'll be better soon," he said, as he 
 shook Ronald's hand in parting. " Perhaps I may 
 look in on you again, you know, to see if you are 
 feeling fit." 
 
 He did look in, the very next afternoon. Before
 
 IN QUEBEC 267 
 
 that, however, he journeyed down into Saint Paul 
 Street in search of Ronald's chief. 
 
 One of the minor clerklcts found him there, 
 straying aimlessly about among the stoves, rescued 
 him and escorted him to the official sanctum. Sir 
 George tapped on the door, then walked in. 
 
 " Good morning ! " he observed. 
 
 The chief looked up. 
 
 " Good morning, Sir George ! Glad to see you," 
 he said crisply. " Excuse me for one moment. 
 Then I'll be with you." 
 
 " Oh, no hurry ! " Sir George answered calmly. 
 " I 've the whole morning, you know." 
 
 For one moment, and for two, the chief wrote 
 busily. Then he whirled about in his chair with 
 a suddenness which caused Sir George to start 
 and draw up his feet in alarm. 
 
 "Well, what can I do for you?" The tone was 
 brisk, alert. 
 
 " I came to have a talk." 
 
 " Not to go into the business ? " 
 
 Hurriedly Sir George shook his head. 
 
 " No. Oh, no. I fancied we had settled that 
 already." 
 
 What then ? " 
 
 Sir George's reply came with unexpected direct- 
 ness. 
 
 " I came to talk about young Leslie."
 
 268 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " What about him ? " 
 
 " He has broken his bone." 
 
 "Sprained it. Yes. I told you. What then?" 
 
 " The fellow says he needs some money." 
 
 The other man frowned. 
 
 "And sent you to ask for it?" he inquired 
 sharply. " That 's not like Leslie." 
 
 The glass fell with a click. 
 
 " He did n't send me. I came," Sir George ox- 
 plained. " It's not just now he needs it. I fancy 
 it is all the time. At least, he said so. What do 
 you suppose the fellow meant ? " 
 
 "fie probably meant what we all know: thnt 
 they have had severe reverses, and that he is short 
 of money." 
 
 " But what should a fellow like that want of 
 money ? " 
 
 "To live on." 
 
 Sir George pondered. 
 
 "For coals and things?" he asked presently. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " By George ! " lie shook his head. " By 
 George! A fellow like young Leslie! That's 
 hard lines." Then he looked up, and a sudden 
 determination added lustre to his eyes. " Of 
 course you pay him his salary, now he 's ill ?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " As a rule, we pay half."
 
 IN QUEBEC 269 
 
 Sir George stiffened slightly. 
 
 "Oh, I think you'd best pay him the whole," 
 he said. 
 
 " But it 's not according to our rule." 
 
 Sir George blundered upon an epigram. 
 
 " Rules are made to be broken," he said. Then, 
 quite unexpectedly, he rose to his feet. "Oh, I 
 say," he remarked persuasively then ; " Leslie 's a 
 good fellow. You told me so, yourself. He's 
 down on his luck, you know. You 'd best give 
 him all his money. He can't live on half a coal, 
 such weather as this. Just give it to him, and, 
 by George," Sir George added in one tremendous 
 outburst ; " if your shop is going to suffer, I '11 
 come down here and sit on a stool half of his time, 
 myself." And, his face wrinkled heavily from the 
 unaccustomed shutting of his jaw, Sir George Por- 
 teous marched out of the office and neglected to 
 close the door behind him. 
 
 " But I like young Leslie," he said to himself, as 
 he turned away down the street. " He 's a good 
 fellow, and he's not always chaffing one. It's a 
 brute of a thing to be wanting money, you know. 
 A fellow would almost do his work for him, to 
 save him that." 
 
 And, filled with a vague desire to make some 
 contribution to the Leslie resources, Sir George 
 betook himself to the florist shop and ordered vio- 
 lets sent to Mrs. Leslie.
 
 270 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 The end of the following week found Ronald hack 
 at the deserted desk which Sir George had threat- 
 ened to occupy in his stead. With rare self-con- 
 trol, the chief omitted to make known the details 
 of his call from Sir George. Nevertheless, a week 
 later, he summoned Ronald to his private room. 
 
 " You are quite worth it to me," he said kindly, 
 at the conclusion of their talk; "and I fancy it 
 won't come amiss to you. You are carrying a 
 heavy care, for so young a man. No ; don't thank 
 me. I '11 get it back out of you, in the shape of 
 work. You have proved that you are the man for 
 the place. By the way," he added casually ; " Sir 
 George Porteous says he is seeing a good deal of 
 you." 
 
 Ronald laughed. 
 
 " Yes, he 's at the house rather often. He and 
 my mother are getting to be great friends. He's 
 not a bad little chap ; he 's only funny." 
 
 The older man nodded. 
 
 "You're right. He has good blood, and that 
 tells, in the end. I knew his father. Make it as 
 pleasant for the fellow as you can. You won't be 
 sorry." And he gave a curt, kind nod of dismissal. 
 
 In talking to his chief, Ronald had spoken truly. 
 His mother and Sir George Porteous were getting 
 to be great friends, fast friends. In fact, during 
 the past ten days, Sir George's calls had been fre-
 
 IN QUEBEC 271 
 
 quent. He had ended by dropping in to see them 
 all, usually appearing simultaneously with the tray 
 and sitting out his second cup of tea. In the be- 
 ginning, however, his calls had been for Ronald, 
 and for him alone, for the tall, ruddy-faced Cana- 
 dian appeared to have won the little Englishman's 
 whole heart. Sir George himself would have found 
 scant difficulty in accounting for this sudden liking. 
 Accustomed all his life long to be the butt of ill- 
 suppressed mirth, Ronald's grave courtesy, albeit 
 superficial and hard to maintain, had won his un- 
 dying gratitude. Sir George, as a rule, was just 
 shrewd enough to discover that there usually was a 
 joke about, when he was present; but to be quite 
 unable to determine where the point of the joke 
 might lie. He had liked Rob Argyle ; but Rob's 
 whole manner to him had been suggestive of a 
 veiled and elusive form of chaff. Ronald, however, 
 had treated him with a portentous seriousness, and 
 Sir George's gratitude directed itself accordingly. 
 It was as well, perhaps, that Sir George had no 
 inkling of the real thoughts which underlay the 
 superficial gravity of Ronald Leslie. 
 
 Nevertheless, Ronald had been touched by the 
 true kindliness of Sir George's initial call. Later 
 on, he admitted to himself, in the intervals of his 
 mirth, a sound respect for the little Englishman 
 whose heart was palpably so superior to his head.
 
 272 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 And to them all, Ronald included, it was equally 
 palpable that that heart had been given over wholly 
 to the long Canadian. Janet Sir George treated 
 exactly as he would have treated a telephone, 
 could he have so far recovered from his London 
 conservatism as to treat that instrument with any- 
 thing bordering upon familiarity. Day, on the 
 other hand, he viewed with exceeding interest and 
 curiosity. 
 
 "I suppose it's because you're American, you 
 know, that makes you so very brisk," he said, one 
 day. " You get about so fast that a fellow never 
 knows where he '11 find you next, and you talk as 
 fast as you get about. I get quite tired, trying 
 to keep up with you." And, puffing noisily, Sir 
 George halted his snowshoes and turned his back 
 to the wind. 
 
 It might well have tired a sturdier man than Sir 
 George Porteous to keep pace with Day Argyle, in 
 those last weeks of January. The charm of the 
 Canadian winter was upon her. Furred to her 
 ear-tips, a plaid tarn o'shanter hat cocked corner- 
 wise upon her head, and Scotch plaid leggings 
 covering her from her heels to the hem of her 
 short kilted skirt, Day Argyle was to be seen 
 abroad in sunshine and in storm. She defied all 
 weathers, all temperatures. Hardy, happy, glow- 
 ing with contentment and with exercise, she spent
 
 IN QUEBEC 273 
 
 long hours in the open air, walking, driving, or 
 sliding, according to the state of the weather and 
 to the wish of her companion of the moment. 
 With Janet and on snowshoes, she scoured the 
 surrounding country, wandering to and fro across 
 the old battleground until she could tell to a nicety 
 where Wolfe's line of march deviated from the 
 easiest trail. Under Ronald's teaching, she learned 
 the trick of taking her toboggan down every slide 
 in the region. She taught herself skiing and, once 
 she succeeded in training her own feet to await her 
 signal for starting down the slopes of the Cove 
 Fields, she set about teaching the same lesson to 
 the feet of Sir George Porteous. As pupil, Sir 
 George was less apt than enthusiastic. He had a 
 trick of allowing his skis to run away with him, 
 and Day, after he had picked himself out of a drift 
 for the twentieth time, abandoned the attempt. 
 
 The daylight hours were far too few for the girl's 
 enjoyment. Night after night, she and Janet and 
 Ronald pushed back their chairs from the table 
 and, stopping only for their wraps and the tobog- 
 gan, betook themselves to the terrace. Or else, 
 slinging their snowshoes on their backs, they 
 hailed a car for the toll-gate whence they started 
 for a long cross-country tramp, over the level fields 
 glistening white in the moonlight, along the crest 
 of the cliff above the gleaming river, then on and 
 
 18
 
 274 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 on through the trees, until Sillery Point was be- 
 hind them and the stillness of the winter night 
 was unbroken by any human sound. And the 
 evening always ended with a row of chairs drawn 
 up before the blazing fire at home, while they ate 
 the supper which Mrs. Leslie had made ready for 
 their coming. And always, before the evening 
 was ended, one of the young voices was sure to 
 say wishfully, 
 
 " If only Rob were here ! " 
 
 To Day Argyle, Rob's absence was the one 
 faulty spot in her life. Otherwise, just then, she 
 was perfectly content. She missed her brother at 
 every turn, missed him, to her surprise, far nn re 
 acutely with each passing day. Her old-time 
 friendship with Ronald had renewed itself com- 
 pletely. Their companionship was closer, their 
 understanding of each other better than it had 
 ever been before. In the long winter evenings, 
 in the golden Saturday afternoons, Ronald did 
 with her all the things she had so often longed 
 to do with Rob. Day entered into all his plans 
 with zest. She enjoyed them wholly ; she was 
 perfectly aware that, in her gay, care-free society, 
 Ronald was forgetting some part at least of the 
 worries which were cramping him at every turn. 
 If it were all she could do for him, this making 
 him forget things and be jolly, at least, she would
 
 IN QUEBEC 275 
 
 do it with all her might. Doing it, moreover, it 
 was impossible for her to keep from glorying in 
 the strength and vigorous beauty of her compan- 
 ion, in the constant, brotherly care for her comfort 
 which he lavished upon her. Day came in from 
 their long expeditions, eager, alert, happy, to find 
 the final pleasure missing. If only she could have 
 talked it all over afterwards with Rob ! Ronald, 
 in those days, was a continual pleasure and de- 
 light; Rob was a part of her very self. Between 
 the lines of his frequent letters, she sought to read 
 the assurance that he mourned for her as she for 
 him. 
 
 And then, one day in early February, Sir 
 George Porteous came to ask Day to go snow- 
 shoeing. There was an instant of hesitation in 
 her acceptance of the invitation, as she glanced 
 out at the sour gray sky which hung low above 
 the rocky cape. It was not a day to tempt one 
 out. Nevertheless, Day bethought herself that, 
 with Janet in school and her mother in Mon- 
 treal for the night, time was bound to hang 
 heavy on her hands. Sir George's face was 
 wishful ; she was indifferent. As result, she went. 
 
 For the first half hour, all was well. Sir 
 George was extraordinarily expert in the man- 
 agement of his shoes, extraordinarily likable in 
 his mood of half-homesick confidence. Glowing
 
 276 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and warm witli the brisk exercise, Day forgot 
 somewhat of the sourness of the sky ; and, as 
 they halted to rest at the foot of the Aux 
 Braves monument, she was wholly glad that she 
 had ventured forth. Then, of a sudden, troubles 
 began. Sir George attempted to tighten the 
 thong of one of his shoes, lost his mitten in the 
 process, lost off his other shoe in hunting for 
 his mitten. And, meanwhile, Day, waiting there 
 beside the monument, felt her warm glow fast 
 changing to a clammy chill, as the wind came 
 sweeping up, bleak and cold, from the bare mud 
 flats which border the Saint Charles, when the 
 tide is low. She waited long and patiently, 
 until Sir George was once more shod and mit- 
 tencd. Then she stepped forward to the trail. 
 
 " Come," she said. " Shall we go on ? " 
 
 Sir George surveyed her anxiously. 
 
 " I say, you are n't cold, are you ? " he asked. 
 " You really look quite blue, you know." 
 
 She forced herself to laugh a little. 
 
 " No ; I am all right. I shall be warm as soon 
 as we are stirring again. Suppose we hurry. It 
 is growing late." 
 
 But not all the hurry in the world could force 
 the chill out of Day's tired bones. She stumbled 
 a little, and her teeth were chattering, as she 
 mounted the steps at home.
 
 'Then she stepped forward to the trail.'* Page 276.
 
 IN QUEBEC 277 
 
 All that evening and all that night, she was hot 
 and cold, cold and hot by turns; but, even in the 
 heat, she could still feel that bleak, bleak wind 
 blowing upward from the Saint Charles valley. 
 And then, just as the little travelling clock on the 
 table struck three, she suddenly pulled the sheet 
 over her head and began to cry, cry silently, pit- 
 eously, lonesomely for Rob. And Rob was in 
 New York, too far away to hold her shivering, 
 aching body in his strong, warm grasp.
 
 278 JANKT: n I-: ii \VINTI-:I; 
 
 CHAPTEE SEVENTEEN 
 
 AND, meanwhile, Rob was biding his time in 
 New York as best he might. lie had left 
 Quebec, expecting to stay for two weeks, lie had 
 remained for five. However, he had made hassle 
 to assure his mother and Day that the unexpected 
 delay portended good things rather than bad. In 
 spite of falls and exposures and strains, his gain 
 had been faster than the doctor had led him to 
 anticipate, so fast, in fact, that certain daily treat- 
 ment which he had expected to take in June, could 
 be given now. A little patience, a little pain and 
 a good deal of boredom, to say nothing of the 
 loss of a winter he had been learning to enjoy, and 
 then a return to them all in something approach- 
 ing his normal condition ! His letters were long 
 and full of enthusiasm over his improvement. By 
 the end of the second week, they even contained 
 veiled hints of a possible return, next season, to his 
 school eleven, at least as substitute. 
 
 However, the fact remained and would not down 
 that at heart Rob was undeniably homesick for 
 Quebec and for Day. Up till then, it had never
 
 IN QUEBEC 279 
 
 occurred to him that lie could grow so fond of any 
 girl ; anyway, not until his joints were too stiff to 
 permit of football. Now that his hopes of future 
 football were brightening, he felt an imperative 
 need to talk them over with Day, to invoke her 
 influence to wheedle his father into allowing him 
 to venture into the old-time sport. Besides, he 
 wanted to hear Day tell about her own doings. 
 Three times in every week, the postman brought 
 him a fat, violet-sealed letter ; and Rob, during his 
 daily hours of massage, learned to know those 
 letters by heart. So characteristic were they that 
 he could almost hear certain of their phrases fall- 
 ing from Day's tongue. They were full of news 
 of the Leslies, of her own experiences, of the words 
 and ways of Sir George Porteous for whose increas- 
 ing prominence upon the Leslie-Argyle horizon 
 Rob was entirely at a loss to account. And, inter- 
 mingled with all these things, there were bits of 
 phrases full of girlish affection, and it was upon 
 these that Rob lingered longest. With a strange, 
 iron-handed woman rubbing and pounding and bend- 
 ing at his weary knee, putting it through its daily 
 woes in a chilly, impersonal fashion that took no 
 notice of the human being to whom it was attached, 
 it was a comfort to lie back and clasp his hands 
 behind the nape of his neck and think how much 
 better Day would have done it all, how her fingers
 
 280 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 would have lightened their attacks, now and then, 
 when the needful rubbing brought the scarlet to his 
 checks and forced a muffled "Ow ! " from his plucky 
 lips. Rob Argylc dreaded but one thing more than 
 his daily massage. That was his daily masseuse. 
 
 In the intervals of her more strenuous opera- 
 tions, Rob pondered upon the Leslies. Too bad 
 he had been forced to leave the field, just as the 
 long war was ended ! It would have been interest- 
 ing to have watched the reconciliation work itself 
 out, until peace was established upon the old terms. 
 At least, it had been bound to come. Sir George's 
 party had settled that. Day's letters, too, confirmed 
 the fact. They were full of her out-door life with 
 Ronald and Janet; and one scarcely went sliding, 
 three nights a week, with people with whom one 
 was not on perfect terms. It was plain enough to 
 Rob, lying on his back and thinking the matter 
 over, that the Leslies were doing all in their power 
 to make amends for the past. After all her 
 tantrums, Janet was a good little soul ; and even 
 Ronald had more backbone than Rob at first had 
 been inclined to acknowledge. And how handsome 
 he was! And how increasingly shabby! There 
 had been a patch on the side of his shoe, the day 
 he had come to see Rob off. Quite inconsequently, 
 Rob fell to wondering how it would seem to be buy- 
 ing neckties at a midwinter clearance sale.
 
 IN QUEBEC 281 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 " Is Mr. Argyle here ? " a courteous and wholly 
 unknown voice inquired. 
 
 Rob struggled to a sitting posture, regardless of 
 the grip of the masseuse who hung on his knee as 
 if resolved to hold it firm, even though it parted 
 company with the rest of his anatomy. 
 
 " Confound you, do let go for a minute ! " he 
 bade her, wholly forgetting, so impersonal had been 
 her ministrations, that he was addressing a woman. 
 " Can't you see I want to speak to somebody ? 
 Come in. I thought it was the bell-boy with the 
 letters. I 'm Rob Argyle." 
 
 The stranger pushed open the door, disclosing 
 to view a slender, dark-eyed man a little on the 
 younger side of thirty. His voice was attractive ; 
 still more attractive was his smile, which gave a 
 sudden lighting to an otherwise grave lace. 
 
 " I hope I 'm not intruding," he said genially, as 
 he came forward into the room. 
 
 Rob laughed, though with a sudden desire to 
 wring the neck of his masseuse, who had once 
 more shut her hands upon the knee before her. 
 
 "Not if you don't mind watching the after 
 effects of football," he answered as cordially as he 
 was able. " As a rule, 1 don't receive calls at this 
 stage of the game. How did they happen to let you 
 up here ? "
 
 282 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " They sent a boy to show me the way. Don't 
 mind me, though." The stranger laughed a little, 
 as Rob indulged in dumb but expressive comments 
 behind his persecutor's unconscious back. " Ron- 
 ald Leslie wrote me you were lying up for repairs, 
 and asked me to look you up. I am Wade Win- 
 throp. We were with the Leslies, all last summer." 
 
 "Oh, Sidney Stayre's cousin!" Rob made in- 
 voluntary comment. Then abruptly he caught 
 himself up. " I 've heard Ronald speak of you so 
 often," he added more conventionally. 
 
 This time, the guest permitted himself to laugh 
 aloud. 
 
 " Don't worry," he said. " When you 've seen 
 Sidney, you '11 know that I don't mind being called 
 her cousin. May I sit down ? Ronald's letter was 
 here, a week ago ; but I 've been out of town. I 
 came back, last night, and Sidney sent me down 
 this morning. Do they let you out at all ; or 
 how is she going to see you?" 
 
 Rob's answer came promptly. Already he liked 
 the stranger, already felt that kinship which comes 
 from tastes and training rather than from blood. 
 It had taken Rob Argyle exactly five minutes to 
 discover that Wade Winthrop was of his world. It 
 took him five minutes more to discover that he 
 wished to see more, very much more, of this grave- 
 eyed man with the sunny smile.
 
 JN QUEBEC 283 
 
 " I belong to the day-shift," he answered whim- 
 sically. " I have my evenings off. Now and then, 
 too, I get half-holiday." 
 
 " That 's good. When will you come and dine ? " 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 "Up town, with my aunt, Mrs. Stay re. There 
 are hordes of young Stayrcs, who are sub-angelic ; 
 but there is also Sidney." 
 
 " And you ? " Rob queried, a bit too directly for 
 complete courtesy. 
 
 The guest coloured. 
 
 " I am always at Sidney's apron-string," he made 
 laughing answer. " May we count on you for day 
 after to-morrow ? " 
 
 "I'd be delighted. Now just sit still. This 
 performance is nearly over, and then we can talk, 
 unless you 'd like a turn." And, as the masseuse 
 straightened her back and marched out of the 
 room, Rob shook himself into a dressing-gown, 
 pulled up a chair and settled himself at his ease. 
 " I feel a bit more self-respecting, don't you know," 
 he explained then. 
 
 His guest nodded. 
 
 " What did it ? " 
 
 " Exeter-Andover game," Rob made terse answer. 
 
 The older man looked at him keenly. 
 
 " I was at Exeter, myself. Arc you the Argyle 
 who saved the game, a year ago ? "
 
 284 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 Rob sought to keep his voice in check. 
 
 " That 's what they say," he answered noncha- 
 lantly. 
 
 The other's face lighted. He held out his hand 
 with a gesture full of boyish enthusiasm. 
 
 " I 'm not of the athletic crowd, myself," he said 
 heartily. " I know my share of lying up ; but you 
 By Jove, I don't know but it was almost worth 
 your while !" 
 
 Rob's laugh but half concealed his satisfaction. 
 
 " You don't agree with Leslie, then ? " he asked. 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " He thinks that football is a rough, naughty 
 game, and that it served me right that I was hurt 
 in playing it." Rob's voice, however, was free 
 from all malice. 
 
 Wade Winthrop smiled. 
 
 u You never can get an Englishman into the 
 spirit of our American sports," he said. " But, as 
 for Ronald Leslie, even if he doesn't go in for 
 football, he is all a man." 
 
 " Yes," Rob admitted rather grudgingly. " Of a 
 sort." 
 
 "Of a mighty good sort," the other returned. 
 " He 's not like our men ; but he 's no Miss Nancy. 
 In fact, he did fully his own share in pulling me 
 up and setting me on my feet, last summer." 
 
 " Apparently he did it well," Rob said approv-
 
 IN QUEBEC 285 
 
 ingly. " No ; don't get on them now. I want to 
 ask you things. Were you at the old place, last 
 June?" 
 
 " Not for two years. But we can talk it up 
 later. I'll tell Sidney, then, that you will be at 
 dinner, Thursday night." And, with a cheery nod, 
 the guest was gone. 
 
 One of the vexatious delays which lurk on all 
 sides in the New York streets caused Rob to be 
 late in reaching the Stayre home, on that next 
 Thursday night. He had barely time to discover 
 that the whole atmosphere of the house was book- 
 ish, and shabby, and altogether delightful, to cast 
 a hasty glance down a long line of Stayres from 
 sixteen-year-old Sidney to an infant terrible of 
 four, who trudged about the room with a pudgy 
 flannel elephant clasped in his brief embrace, and 
 to assure himself that Wade Winthrop was in the 
 room. Then he was hurried directly to the dining- 
 room and placed at the table between Mrs. Stayre 
 and Sidney. Accordingly, it was not until the 
 gay, informal meal was ended and he, with Sidney 
 and Wade, was settled before the parlour fire, that 
 he was able to take a good, long look at his young 
 hostess and discover how he liked her. All in all, 
 he did like her, like her extremely. His first im- 
 pression, won from the strong, steady grasp of her 
 hand, was strengthened by his furtive, though de-
 
 286 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 liberate study of her face. Sidney Stay re was not 
 absolutely pretty. Her hair was brown, her eyes 
 were gray, and her features lacked regularity. 
 None the less, she was alert, genial and full of a 
 subtle suggestion of being a good and loyal com- 
 rade. For the rest, she had pretty feet, she was 
 graceful, and her simple brown frock, relieved here 
 and there with dashes of vivid gold, seemed as 
 characteristic of her whole personality as did her 
 strong and quiet hands. 
 
 "Tell me about Ronald," she said at once. 
 " He writes to me, of course ; but his letters 
 tell so little." 
 
 The question was comprehensive. It set Rob 
 to pondering how to reply. 
 
 "He is well, and working hard." 
 
 " Poor old boy ! It was such a shame he had 
 to give up college." 
 
 " Do you think he cared so very much ? " 
 
 " Cared ! " Sidney cast one swift glance at her 
 guest. " You don't know Ronald," she added 
 quietly. 
 
 Rob shook his head. 
 
 " No," he assented. " I 'm afraid I don't." 
 
 " Whose fault is it ? " she asked directly, 
 though with a smile which took the edge from 
 her words. 
 
 Rob laughed.
 
 IN QUEBEC 287 
 
 " Both, I suspect," he confessed. " I like 
 Ronald ; he 's a good fellow. No doubt he 
 would say the same of me." 
 
 " He does," Sidney interpolated quietly. 
 
 " But, nevertheless, I can't say that we either 
 of us have manifested any wild desire for the 
 other's society. My sister likes him. In fact, 
 I fancy he 's that sort." 
 
 " What sort ? " Sidney demanded, with a 
 brevity which suggested that she had forgotten 
 she was the hostess of a stranger guest. 
 
 However, for some reason, Rob liked her 
 intrepidity. He was even conscious of a sneak- 
 ing wish that the day might come when Sidney 
 Stayre would take up the cudgels for himself 
 in that same valiant fashion. 
 
 "The sort that gets on with girls better 
 than " 
 
 But she interrupted him in the midst of his 
 phrase. 
 
 " He is n't. Ask my cousin. Ronald is n't 
 ladylike ; it is only that he is so different from 
 our boys that we have to get used to him. Once 
 you know him, you'll see the good stuff in him. 
 But let's talk about Janet. Maybe we'll agree 
 better, there." 
 
 Her straightforward, off-hand fashion of going 
 to the core of thiugs was wholly new to Rob,
 
 288 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 wholly pleasing. Absolutely girlish and simple, 
 nevertheless Sidney Stayre had certain of the 
 attributes of a healthy boy. Unconsciously he 
 likened her to some of the comrades he had 
 known at school. 
 
 " No," he persisted jovially ; " if you don't 
 mind I 'd rather talk about Ronald. Maybe we 
 should agree there, if we only talked it out. 
 You know him better than I do. Tell me about 
 him, please." 
 
 And Sidney told. Unconsciously, however, in 
 the telling, she told more of herself than of the 
 subject of the talk, told of her healthy liking 
 for the young Canadian, of her swift grasp of 
 the stronger side of his nature; hinted, too, at 
 the hearty support and comfort she had been 
 to him, during all those autumn months of sor- 
 row, of worry, and of self-denial. And Rob, 
 sitting back and watching her brightening face, 
 wondered to himself how he could ever have 
 doubted her claim to prettiness. Moreover, in 
 acknowledging the justice of her plea for Ron- 
 ald, he admitted to himself that Sidney Stayre 
 would be a friend worth having. Few girls were 
 so directly loyal, fewer still could argue for that 
 loyalty and leave their temper and their sense 
 of humour still intact 
 
 It was late, that evening, and the talk had
 
 IN QUEBEC 289 
 
 wandered far from Ronald Leslie, when Rob 
 stood up to go. He had stooped for his stick ; 
 but Sidney had been before him. 
 
 " You are gaining, Wade says," she added, 
 with a smile. " How long will you be in town?" 
 
 Rob shook his head. 
 
 " It may be hours, or ages. I am all in the 
 hands of a cast-iron masseuse, and I am not 
 sure how soon she '11 get sick of mauling me." 
 
 Sidney laughed. 
 
 "Not too soon, I hope. It has been so good 
 to see you and to hear about the Leslies, and 
 we want you to come again." Then, of a sud- 
 den, her face broke into a laugh of pure mis- 
 chief. " Do come," she urged ; " and often. 
 Truly, I don't always fight as I've been doing 
 now. It 's only that I like Ronald so well that 
 I want you to know him for what he really is 
 worth." 
 
 Rob's hand shut over her fingers, extended in 
 farewell. 
 
 " And, from all you say, I begin to think he 's 
 worth the fighting for," he answered. "And 
 thank you ; I'll come again." And he kept his 
 word. 
 
 Three weeks later, Rob Argyle was quite at 
 home in the Stayre household. Urged by Mrs. 
 Stayre, he formed the habit of dropping in 
 
 19
 
 290 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 upon them, whenever the absolute boredom of 
 the masseuse came upon his nerves. Promoted 
 from the parlour to the library, shabby and 
 book-crammed, he spent long evenings there, 
 talking with Sidney, playing with the children, 
 or gossiping with Wade of school and football, 
 and of the Harvard days to come. Now and 
 then Wade walked in upon him at the hospital, 
 .and sat talking for an hour; but the daylight 
 hours of a man on the staff of an evening 
 paper are too precious for much idling; and, 
 for the most part, their friendship grew by arti- 
 ficial light and by way of the Stayre front door. 
 And, as the weeks went by, Rob Argyle was 
 conscious of an increasing liking for Sidney, an 
 increasing wish to get her wholesome point of 
 view in regard to whatever questions might 
 arise, an increasing desire that she and Day 
 might meet. 
 
 This desire lay strongly upon him, one dreary 
 day in early February. It had been the morning 
 for Day's letter, and Day's letter had not come. 
 The mails had been irregular of late ; the heavy 
 snows had accounted for that. Nevertheless, Rob 
 was always restless, when they failed to appear. 
 His masseuse had been unusually energetic, that 
 morning, too. It had seemed to Rob of late that, 
 knowing her chances were drawing to an end, she
 
 IN QUEBEC 291 
 
 was sturdily resolved to cause him as much anguish 
 as possible, during the short time which still re- 
 mained to her. Twice, that morning, she had 
 taken him in hand, the second time with such un- 
 gentle fingers that she had forced a cry and then 
 another from her brave young charge. The degra- 
 dation of his giving in to the pain was weighing 
 hard on Rob, that noon. It was contrary to his 
 whole creed of things, whereby a fellow should shut 
 his teeth and take the consequences without a 
 moan. Coupled with the exhaustion of the pain 
 and with the final woe of missing Day's letter, it 
 left him in a mood of deep depression. Dinner 
 over, he resolved to call a cab and go in search of 
 Sidney. Long before this, he had learned that 
 Sidney's consolation held no taint of coddling. 
 
 He found her alone by the library fire, a book in 
 her hand, but her eyes fixed on an invisible some- 
 thing far beyond the limits of the book-walled room. 
 His step still dragged a little and gave warning of 
 his approach ; and Sidney sprang up alertly, the 
 dreaminess all gone from her eyes, as she held out 
 her hands in greeting. 
 
 Before Rob was quite aware of how it all hap- 
 pened, he was sitting by the fire, stretched out at 
 his ease in a time-worn morris chair, talking about 
 Day. As a matter of course, Sidney had heard of 
 Day. Ronald had written of her ; he himself had
 
 292 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 mentioned her repeatedly and often. Now, how- 
 ever, it was different. Sidney was interested, sym- 
 pathetic. Rob, his eyes now on the glowing fire, 
 now on her bright face, gave himself up wholly to 
 his theme, dwelling at long length on Day's dainti- 
 ness, her charm, her loyal love, on their good times 
 together, all those past ten weeks, even upon their 
 childish tiffs and scrapes. Then he fell to ransack- 
 ing his pockets for her letters. Scraps of them he 
 read aloud, laughing, explaining, commenting upon 
 them and upon Sidney's comments in her turn. 
 And at last his mood changed ; the depression left 
 him, and in his blue eyes the wonted merriment 
 replaced the hunted, worried look which Sidney had 
 never seen in them till then. 
 
 It had been early when he reached the Stayres' 
 home. It was still early, only half-past three, 
 when a sudden buzz and jangle called Sidney to 
 the telephone in the hall. She was absent for mo- 
 ments. When she did return, her face was white 
 and there was an indefinable gentleness in her 
 manner. For an instant, she bent above the fire 
 and poked it to a blaze. Then slowly and as if 
 with a certain reluctance, she straightened up and 
 faced about to Rob. 
 
 " Rob," she said then ; " how plucky are you ? " 
 
 " Immensely," he responded promptly. 
 
 Her answering smile was wan and forced.
 
 IN QUEBEC 293 
 
 " I am glad. I have something " She caught 
 her breath, "something horrid to tell you. They 've 
 just telephoned a message to you from the hospital." 
 
 Immediately the smile left his lips, died out from 
 his blue eyes. 
 
 " A message ! " he echoed sharply. " What ? " 
 
 At sight of the change in him, Sidney shrank 
 from the blow which she was about to deal. 
 
 " It is a telegram," she said slowly. 
 
 "A telegram? From Quebec? Who is ill? 
 Quick ! " he said imperiously. 
 
 Sidney rested her hand on his arm, pressing him 
 back into the chair. 
 
 " It is Day," she said steadily. " She is ill." 
 
 " Very ? " 
 
 She nodded sadly. 
 
 " This was the message : i Day has pneumonia. 
 Very ill. Come if you can.' " 
 
 For an instant there was silence, a silence broken 
 only by the purring of the blaze among the coals. 
 Then Rob lifted his head and drew one long, sob- 
 bing breath. 
 
 " If only it had n't been Day ! " he said, and his 
 tone was the tone of one speaking of the dead. 
 
 Sidney's voice roused him. 
 
 " Shall you go ? " 
 
 u Of course." 
 
 " When ? "
 
 294 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Now." He glanced at the clock. " No. It 's 
 too late." 
 
 For a moment, Sidney thought swiftly, deeply. 
 
 " You can do it. Telephone for a cab. I '11 go 
 to Wade's room and get a few things for you to use 
 on the way. The train goes at four. You 've just 
 time. Wade will go down to the hospital, to-night, 
 to get your own things together. Don't worry, 
 Rob. We '11 see to everything here, and, after all, 
 it may not be as bad as you think." And, with 
 one quick, reassuring clasp of his fingers, she left 
 him and went hurrying up the stairs. 
 
 The cab was at the door, when she came rushing 
 back, hatted and coated, a little bag in one hand, a 
 heavy rug across the other arm. 
 
 " Come," she said briskly. " It is time we 
 started. I '11 drive across with you and see ^ r ou 
 off. Ready ? I think there 's everything here you 
 need." And she sprang into the cab and drew 
 Rob after her. " The Grand Central, quick ! " she 
 said imperiously. Then the imperiousness left her 
 voice and the gentler note came back again. " I 
 am so sorry," she said simply. " Keep up your 
 courage, if you can. I only wish I could be of 
 any use." 
 
 And Rob, as he boarded the train with those 
 parting words still sounding in his ears, felt better, 
 more courageous for her final handclasp, felt that,
 
 IN QUEBEC 295 
 
 in the last half-hour, he had gained his first glimpse 
 of the real Sidney Stayre. For a little while, the 
 glimpse stayed with him and brightened him. 
 Then, with the falling twilight, the darkness of 
 anxiety shut down around him, and his pluck failed 
 him, and his heart cried out for Day, and for Day 
 alone.
 
 296 JANET: HER WlNTEIi 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 OVER the wide-spaimed arcli of the Spring- 
 field station, the snow was sifting softly 
 down. The flakes were small and icy cold; and 
 they came swiftly, steadily, directly down through 
 the windless air. All day long and all the day 
 before, the spirit of the New England winter had 
 been threatening storm, frowning, gray and cold. 
 By six o'clock that night, the first snowflakes had 
 fallen. By eight o'clock, the roadways outside the 
 station were covered with a thick, soft blanket, and 
 the blanket was growing thicker with every passing 
 minute. 
 
 Inside the station, there was warmth and light 
 and bustle. The waiting-rooms were filled with 
 people who came hurrying in, stamping the snow 
 from their feet, shaking it from their shoulders and 
 from their luggage, exchanging the greetings that 
 are wont to fly about among commuters while the 
 local trains are being made up in the yard above. 
 
 Outside, above the tracks between the stations, 
 the snow-filled air was heavy with steam, and the 
 snow beneath the feet was soft and slippery with
 
 7^ QUEBEC 297 
 
 the dampness of the air above. Over on the north- 
 ern track, the engine of a long express train lay 
 puffing lazily to itself; and, far down the train, a 
 tall, broad-shouldered figure was standing at atten- 
 tion beside the steps of one of the sleepers. 
 
 " Awful night ! " he said to his attendant porter, 
 as he pulled up his velvet collar and shrugged his 
 shoulders together. " I fancy we '11 have the car 
 to ourselves. No, by Jove ! " And he dashed for- 
 ward and caught Rob Argyle by the nearer elbow. 
 " Steady ! " he cautioned him. " This snow is like 
 pitch. Give me your luggage. And so you 're 
 going down again ? " 
 
 And before Rob, tired, dazed and heartsick, 
 could quite realize what had befallen him, he was 
 being helped into the car and packed snugly into a 
 section directly beneath the central light. 
 
 " Here you are, Number Eight." Then, as the 
 lamps, shining down upon them, showed that Rob's 
 face was gray to ghastliness, the young conductor 
 lost his jollity. " What is it ? " he asked swiftly. 
 " Are you ill ? Did you hurt yourself, when you 
 slipped ? " 
 
 Rob shook his head. 
 
 " It 's my sister," he said dully. 
 
 " You mean the pretty one who came to see you 
 off?" 
 
 " Yes. She 's the only one I have."
 
 298 JANET: HER WINTEIl 
 
 And the answering words came with hearty, 
 kindly sympathy, 
 
 " I 'in sorry. I hope it is n't bad." And then, 
 for the hour drew near for starting, he yielded to 
 discipline and went back to his post outside the 
 car. 
 
 His shoulders were thickly covered with white, 
 when he came back again. While the train drew 
 slowly out of the long, bright station, out through 
 the snow-veiled lights of the city streets, he moved 
 briskly to and fro, removing his overcoat and assur- 
 ing himself that all was right with his car. Then 
 he returned to Rob and, all unbidden, dropped into 
 the vacant seat at his side. 
 
 " I 'm learning to count on you as my own prop- 
 erty, Mr. Argyle," he said cheerily then. u It 's an 
 odd chance that always brings you, when I 'm on 
 the run. By the way. my name is Blanchard, Jack 
 Blanchard. You 've taken a bad night for the 
 trip." 
 
 " I could n't wait," Rob said briefly. 
 
 " I know. I wish it had n't been the reason. 
 And you? You're better?" 
 
 Rob straightened out his leg across the opposite 
 seat. 
 
 " I was better, almost well. I twisted myself a 
 little, getting out of the other car," he explained 
 listlessly.
 
 IN QUEBEC 299 
 
 From under the shadow of his visorcd cap, 
 Blanchard eyed him keenly for a moment. This 
 was not the Rob Argyle he had seen before. 
 Plainly his trouble was deep and lay upon him 
 heavily. The level eyes swept Rob from head to 
 heel, lingered a little longer on the feet which were 
 moving with a restlessness which was not entirely 
 due to pain. Then suddenly Jack Blanchard 
 turned and threw one sturdy arm along the back 
 of the seat. 
 
 " Tell me about it," he said quietly. " It won't 
 be so hard for you, you know, after we 've talked it 
 out." 
 
 And Rob, turning to look into the clean, kind 
 brown eyes that faced him, was dimly conscious of 
 a returning wave of the courage which had started 
 up within him at Sidney's farewell words. 
 
 Together, they sat there talking until the porter 
 came to make up the berth. Together, they moved 
 across the aisle and went on with their talk. Now 
 and then, as the train slackened its speed at a 
 station, Blanchard rose and went outside. He 
 came in again, his shoulders white, shook himself 
 and once more dropped down at Rob's side. On 
 such a night as that, there were no other passen- 
 gers; and, as the hours and the miles rolled by, 
 Rob had an odd sensation of being in an own priv- 
 ate car accompanied by an own old friend. At
 
 300 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 least, none of his own old friends could have been 
 kindlier to him, more heedful for his comfort. 
 
 And Rob felt better for the talk. It began with 
 Day and, even with the putting his alarm into 
 words, it seemed to him that his alarm grew less, 
 from the very fact of his sharing it with another. 
 Viewed in the reflected light of the keen brown 
 eyes before him, the message seemed of less tragic 
 omen, Day's girlish strength seemed fitter to bear 
 the sudden strain. At first, Rob spoke reservedly 
 and as to a stranger ; but, as the evening grew old 
 and night came on, the sense of strangeness van- 
 ished and he talked more freely and with bright- 
 ening mood. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said bluntly at last. 
 " It 's not my business, I know ; but how does a 
 fellow like you happen to be - The words stuck 
 in his throat. 
 
 The other helped him out. 
 
 " To be running a Pullman car ? " he supple- 
 mented quietly. " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because Rob faced him directly ; " be- 
 cause you don't seem the sort." 
 
 Blanchard laughed. Then he straightened his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " The question is, what is the sort," he said 
 briefly. "As for me, I was just starting in at 
 Queen's, when the war came. Fighting is in my
 
 IN QUEBEC 301 
 
 race. I went out with one of the contingents. 
 When I came back, a year ago, the. father was 
 dead, and there 's the mother to be looked out for. 
 I took the first thing that came." 
 
 " Oh." Rob pondered swiftly. " Then you 're 
 another." 
 
 " Beg pardon ? " 
 
 Rob glanced up to meet the inquiring eyes. 
 
 " We 're every one of us bound to get pinched, 
 sooner or later. It all depends on whether we take 
 it without squealing," he answered. " I was think- 
 ing of a fellow I know in Quebec. Being ill is n't 
 the only worry." 
 
 The other man shook his head. 
 
 " Not when one comes out of it as well as you are 
 going to do." 
 
 But Rob made dreary answer, 
 
 " It was n't about myself I was thinking ; it was 
 Day." 
 
 Blanchard glanced out of the window at a lighted 
 station. Then he looked at his watch. Then he 
 rose. 
 
 u Argyle," he said kindly ; " it 's very late. If I 
 were you, I 'd go to bed. You 're tired ; perhaps 
 you'll get some sleep. Don't take this thing 
 harder than you can help ; pneumonia is n't always 
 deadly." He started down the car. Then, turn- 
 ing, he came back. " Put on your coat and come
 
 302 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 out on the platform for a mile or two. The air 
 will make ypu sleepy," he advised. " Then, if you 
 don't sleep and get lonesome, ring me up. I 'm 
 not allowed to go to bed till three, and there 's no- 
 body to be disturbed, in case you feel like talking. 
 Sure your coat is buttoned ? Come." And he 
 led the way to a sheltered corner of the vestibule. 
 
 But Rob, as he had risen to his feet, had faced 
 him with somewhat of his old cheery smile. 
 
 " Thank you Jack," he had answered. "You're 
 very good to me, you know." 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of their quarter-hour in the 
 snowy outer air, drowsiness was not for Rob, that 
 night. Hour after hour, he lay awake, his head 
 resting on his heaped-up pillows and his eyes fixed 
 on the blinding grayish mist which seemed to be 
 enveloping the train. Most of the time, his thoughts 
 were fixed upon Day. Now and then, however, as 
 the night wore on, they went trailing off to other 
 things: to the occasional dry little cough which 
 marked the conductor's whereabouts in the car, to 
 the long delay at a wayside station and to the fan- 
 tastic shapes of the station lights behind the shift- 
 ing veil of snow, to the rising wind which moaned 
 about the car and sought to force its way through 
 the cracks of the double windows, to the steady, 
 sturdy determination in Jack Blanchard's eyes 
 when he had spoken of his mother and of taking
 
 IN QUEBEC 303 
 
 the first tiling that came. And the fellow spoke 
 well, too, like a man of education. And he had 
 been so kind. Rob punched his pillows into a 
 higher mound, while he rebuked himself for the 
 hours he had sat, pouring his own personal woes 
 into a stranger's ears. Still, a fellow like that was 
 never quite a stranger, any more than Sidney 
 Stay re had been. Being a stranger was more a 
 matter of sympathy than of introductions. But 
 how long the night was ! He had supposed it 
 nearly over, when he had gone to bed, and still 
 they were stopping and starting and running and 
 stopping, as if the time would never end. He fell 
 to counting the rails as he passed over them. It 
 was too dark to see his watch to mark the twenty 
 seconds ; nevertheless, he knew, from old familiar- 
 ity with the trick, that the train was running slowly, 
 far more slowly than the time card allowed. And 
 the car was very cold. Wriggling to the outer edge 
 of the berth, he straightened up and sought for 
 Sidney's rug which the porter had stowed away in 
 the upper berth. 
 
 Wrapped in the rug, Rob fell asleep at last ; but 
 it was a troubled, restless sleep, haunted by dreams 
 of Day who, lost in the storm outside, eluded all the 
 efforts of Sidney Stayre and Jack Blanchard to find 
 her. Nevertheless, one and then the other of them 
 came to him and begged him not to worry. She
 
 304 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 would be found at last, if only it would leave off 
 snowing. A sudden jar of the train wakened him 
 to the vague consciousness that they were stopping 
 at a wayside station, and he opened his eyes to stare 
 out into a mist of snowflakes falling so fast as to 
 hide the landscape utterly. He stirred a little, 
 yawning and rubbing the window pane in order to 
 assure himself that the mistiness came from outside 
 the car. Then, as he lay back again, his eye met 
 a pair of friendly brown eyes peering in at him 
 through the crack of the parted curtains. 
 
 " I heard you stirring," the owner of the eyes 
 said. " If you take my advice, you will lie still and 
 keep your appetite in check. We 're four hours 
 late, and there is no chance for breakfast till we 
 get to Newport." 
 
 " Four hours ! " 
 
 " Yes. It is the worst storm of the year." 
 
 Rob's thoughts flew north to Day. 
 
 " What time shall we get in ? " 
 
 " There 's no telling. I am sorry, sorry for you 
 as a man can be. Keep up your pluck, though, 
 and we '11 pull through in time. Let 's hope we '11 
 find her better. I would telegraph down for you 
 for news ; but they say the wires are down, up on 
 the heights at Ilarlaka." 
 
 The words were direct and few ; the voice was 
 wholly kind. Then the eyes vanished, the curtains
 
 IN QUEBEC 305 
 
 fell together, and Rob lay back and pulled the rug 
 over his face, that not even the pitiless gray sky 
 should look in upon his fight with himself for 
 steadiness and courage. 
 
 The fight lasted long ; but Rob won out. When 
 at last he appeared from between his curtains, his 
 face was pale, his eyes ringed with heavy shadows ; 
 but his lips were steady, his voice had its old ring. 
 No matter if Day were ill, even to the point of 
 death, he had no right to allow his own anxiety 
 and sorrow to blacken for others a day which was 
 bidding fair to be one of hardship. Day herself 
 would have been the first one to have urged him 
 to face the future stoutly and with a laugh on 
 his lips. He greeted the porter cheerily ; but his 
 eyes were a little wishful, as he looked about for 
 Blanchard. 
 
 Quebec was still far distant when the wintry 
 twilight closed in upon a day of storm. For Rob 
 Argyle, it had been a day when time had ceased to 
 be. Breakfast had merged itself in dinner ; dinner, 
 eaten hastily at the place appointed for breakfast 
 time, had occurred somewhere between noon and 
 the fall of twilight. For the exact hour Rob had 
 stopped caring. It seemed to him that time would 
 only begin again when his journey's end should 
 bring him news of Day. When that end would 
 come, what that news would be, he refused to 
 
 20
 
 300 JANET: HER WINTEIi 
 
 allow himself to think. In the intervals of his 
 long talks with Blanchard, he forced his attention 
 to cling to the half-veiled scenes outside his win- 
 dow, to the snow screen which shut out all view 
 of the distant mountain sides, to the snow-heaped 
 villages grouped about their gray stone churches, 
 to the trams and smelters and waste heaps of a 
 mining town in the southern edge of the Townships, 
 to all things outside, save a moving human figure. 
 For hours on end, it was as if there were no human 
 life outside their car. The village streets were 
 clear of people, the platforms of the stations de- 
 serted. Not even at his meals did Rob catch sight 
 of a human face, for Blanchard's quick eye had 
 seen that his sole passenger was in no trim to 
 battle with the storm, and he himself had come 
 wading back to the car, laden with spoils from the 
 steaming kitchen somewhere in the rear of the 
 station. 
 
 " I 'm an old hand at the foraging," he had 
 explained. " Besides, there 's no sense in your 
 getting wet for nothing. You 're better off inside 
 the car." 
 
 And, as the darkness fell and Blanchard went to 
 order the porter to turn on the lights, Rob gave 
 over thinking of Day long enough to assure himself 
 that, without Jack Blanchard's jovial care, his 
 journey would have been a different thing. The
 
 IN QUEBEC 307 
 
 day had been one of discomfort. The train had 
 crawled forward and come to halt by turns. The 
 car was cold, food scarce, the outlook dreary. 
 The train conductor lapsed into voluble French 
 at all questions in regard to the hour of their 
 arrival. There was nothing to do but wait and 
 worry. And Blanchard had so far helped the one 
 thing as wellnigh to prevent the other. Bundled 
 in blankets to the chin, the two young fellows had 
 nestled side by side, with Sidney's rug across their 
 knees, while Blanchard had spun interminable 
 yarns of life on veldt and kopje, had made merry 
 over the strange people who had slept the night in 
 that selfsame car. And, all the time, even while 
 his mirth infected Rob and chased the shadow from 
 his eyes, Blanchard's own keen brown eyes, meet- 
 ing Rob's blue ones, told their wordless story of 
 sympathy and of friendly liking. And so the day 
 and the miles dragged on. 
 
 Under conditions such as this, social rank counts 
 for nothing. Long before nightfall, they were Rob 
 and Jack to each other; long before nightfall, Rob 
 had forgotten that he was a rich man's son, fallen 
 by chance into the care of an efficient Pullman 
 conductor. Instead, he merely had a vague con- 
 sciousness that Blanchard was an all-round good 
 fellow and of a speech and manner equal to his 
 own ; that never once, in all those tedious hours,
 
 308 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 had he neglected, nor yet obtruded, a little watch- 
 ful care for his weaker comrade. Still more vaguely 
 was he conscious that a comradeship such as theirs 
 had been, that day, was bound to bear its fruit at 
 some time in the future. Under some conditions, 
 Rob could have enjoyed the day, enjoyed even its 
 sheer discomforts. To a hearty boy with a mind 
 at rest, they would have held their own charming 
 spice of danger. But now, however far diverted, 
 his mind kept swinging back to the one fixed 
 point. That point, of course, was Day. 
 
 It was a certain relief when the porter turned 
 on the lights. The drawn curtains of the car shut 
 out all measure of the slowness of their progress. 
 The wind had fallen with the falling dark ; the 
 drifts were fewer now, their passage steadier. 
 And so they plodded on and on, while twilight 
 grew to evening, and evening turned into night. 
 And at last, just as the clocks in the distant city 
 were chiming the hour of twelve, the train rumbled 
 througli the last of the Harlaka snowsheds and 
 went sliding away down the long grade that leads 
 to Levis. 
 
 Cramped and stiff with the cold and the long 
 sitting still, Rob was glad to rest his hand on 
 Blanchard's shoulder, as he stepped down from the 
 car. His eyes, meanwhile sought through and 
 through the little crowd upon the platform. Then
 
 IN QUEBEC 309 
 
 he pulled his hat over his eyes, while his other 
 hand shut on Blanchard's arm. In all that little 
 waiting crowd, there was no familiar face. 
 
 " Steady, Rob ! " Blanchard's voice was quiet. 
 " Likely there 's been no ferry across, to-night. 
 Take my arm. It 's slippery as death. The porter 
 will see to your traps. Come along." And he led 
 the way to the ferry-house, and came on board the 
 little boat, already steaming and straining at her 
 moorings in the wash of the ebbing tide. 
 
 Once out upon the river, they found themselves 
 in a sea of floating, grinding cakes of ice which 
 mounted on each other's shoulders, jostled each 
 other with angry crashings, came eddying and 
 swirling down against the ferry's sides, sending 
 long, thudding shivers throughout her sturdy little 
 frame. In such a tide as that and in such a storm, 
 no boats had crossed since noon. Now, freightless 
 but crowded from stem to stern, the captain was 
 putting out, to try his chances with the mighty 
 river, swollen with storm and thick with the ice 
 which rushed seaward with the ebbing tide. The 
 snow, meanwhile, had nearly ceased to fall ; and, 
 through its scattered flakes, the lights from Citadel 
 and terrace shone calmly down, throwing their 
 placid beams across the raging, hissing river. 
 
 Blanchard's keen eyes were clouded, as he re- 
 joined Rob inside the stuffy cabin. Just once
 
 310 JANET: HER WINTHli 
 
 before he had crossed the river on such a night. 
 He knew how to read the captain's face, knew, too, 
 the meaning of the signals flashed from the ferry- 
 house at Levis to the distant shore. Inside the 
 cabin, stuffy as it was, there was shelter from the 
 gale. Nevertheless, 
 
 " Roll yourself up in your rug and come outside," 
 he bade Rob briefly. "A night like this, the ice is 
 worth the watching." 
 
 And Rob found it so. Blanchard had led the way 
 to a sheltered corner of the deck where, leaning on 
 the rail, Rob lost himself, lost even the conscious- 
 ness of Day, in watching the fierce strife of winter, 
 watching the eddying, whirling cakes of ice, borne 
 down by the tide, thrown back by the wind which 
 came sweeping up the river ; watching them roll and 
 toss and grind together, now falling apart again, then 
 clinging in an ever-widening sheet about the ferry's 
 bow and sides. No thought of danger came to 
 him ; he was exulting in his every nerve and fibre 
 in this mad fury of the winter storm. And beside 
 him, Blanchard's answers to his words grew vague 
 and brief, while he watched with practised eye the 
 increasing coat of ice about their keel, the increas- 
 ing size of the blocks of ice which came crashing 
 down against them, then looked up at the opposite 
 shore to measure by the dimming lights the speed 
 of their course, as steadily, surely, swiftly, in spite
 
 IN QUEBEC 311 
 
 of steam and steering gear, the plucky little ferry 
 lost her headway and was borne farther and farther 
 down the stream. 
 
 At length Rob roused himself and framed an 
 objection. 
 
 " It's beastly cold out here. I've seen enough. 
 What if we go inside ? " 
 
 Blanchard hesited, demurred. Then, as one huge 
 black block and another came down upon them, he 
 turned and looked Rob straight between the eyes. 
 
 " I 'm sorry," he said. " We 'd best stay here." 
 
 " But why ? I 'm chilled through and through." 
 
 " I know." And in that moment it flashed 
 through Rob's mind that his companion's uniform 
 was no mate for his own fur-lined coat. " It is 
 cold. Still, I think it is safer here outside." 
 
 Rob faced him in surprise. 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 " I mean," and Blanchard's steady touch was on 
 his arm ; " I mean, in case things happen." Then 
 he forced the gravity from his tone and laughed 
 cheerily. " They probably won't happen. In any 
 case, I swim like a fish, and I '11 hang on to you 
 and see you safely over." 
 
 But, even as he spoke, both he and Rob were well 
 aware that swimming in such an ice-locked tide 
 was something beyond the reach of human power. 
 
 For one moment and for one moment only, Rob
 
 312 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 felt something come up in his throat and stop his 
 breath. Then he steadied himself, straightened 
 his shoulders and laughed out in his old cheery 
 fashion. 
 
 " We'll fight it out together to the end, Jack," 
 he answered. Then silently, but with Blanchard's 
 hand still on Rob's arm, the two young fellows 
 stood there waiting, gazing out over the ink-black, 
 tossing river. 
 
 Slowly the lights of the city were dimming in the 
 distance ; slowly the ice-sheets grew on bow and 
 stern. Down across the chilly air the voice of the 
 captain came strident, his orders mingled with the 
 sound of jangling bells. The wheels of the little 
 boat still beat the water ; but impotently now, for 
 progress meant the dragging with her of many tons 
 of ice. And, if the ice held firm, all might be well. 
 But if it once began to crumble? Blanchanl's 
 hand tightened upon Rob's arm. And not even a 
 sound man could swim ashore in such a tide, still 
 less a fellow crippled by a football strain. And 
 the lights of the Citadel were growing fainter. 
 
 And then, of a sudden, a shrill little cheer from 
 the pilot house was answered by a distant whistle. 
 On the King's Wharf lights were stirring ; out from 
 the King's Wharf lights were starting, were being 
 swept down the stream towards them, swept fast 
 and steadily. Through the chill, still air, above the
 
 IN QUEBEC 313 
 
 crashing of ice-cakes, there came again the whistle, 
 nearer now, and the throbbing of a mighty engine. 
 And the lights came ever nearer until, outlined 
 against the inky sky, a great black bulk showed 
 itself, dimly at first and then with every mast and 
 funnel standing out distinct. And then, with a 
 tearing, rending noise, the huge ice-breaker came 
 plunging into the floe which held the ferry motion- 
 less and impotent, plunged into it, cut across it, 
 circled through it in two narrowing arcs ; and then, 
 with a whistle of supreme content, it turned south- 
 ward and, forging slowly, steadily ahead, cut open a 
 wide pathway up the river back to the distant ferry- 
 house once more. 
 
 But Jack Blanchard's grasp of Rob's arm never 
 relaxed its steady, reassuring pressure until the 
 ferry came to her moorings, and Ronald Leslie, 
 huge, ruddy and smiling at his own good news, 
 came leaping over the rail before the gang-plank 
 had been lowered.
 
 314 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 you mean walk, or ride ? " 
 " I meant to walk." 
 
 " To the toll-gate ? " 
 
 " Why not ? If need be, you can bring me home 
 in a cab." 
 
 Janet departed without a word. When she came 
 back, hat and coat in hand, she spoke. 
 
 " Rob," she said ; " it 's too jolly." 
 
 And Rob made swift answer, 
 
 " No ; just jolly enough." 
 
 Down in his secret heart, though, Rob felt as- 
 sured that nothing was jolly enough to account 
 for his mood, that first morning in March. Life's 
 smile was broadened to a grin of sheer hilarity. 
 Day, dressed and looking her old blithe self, had 
 come to breakfast, that morning, for the first time. 
 In honour of the great event, Mrs. Leslie had pre- 
 pared an extra feast, and Ronald had delayed for 
 half an hour his start down town, in order to share 
 in the general rejoicing. There had been a box 
 of violets from Sir George Porteous and, just as 
 they were leaving the table, the postman had
 
 IN QUEBEC 315 
 
 brought in the New York letters. There had been 
 three of them, one for Ronald from Sidney, and 
 two for Rob. The more bulky one he had laid 
 aside to feast on at his leisure, for it was from 
 Wade Winthrop, and the past three weeks had 
 taught Rob that Wade Winthrop's letters were 
 worthy to be read with care and more than once. 
 The other was from Rob's New York doctor, short 
 and crispy. Rob's hurried going from New York 
 had left but one course open : the placing the case in 
 the hands of a doctor in Quebec, who should keep 
 in constant communication with the specialist at 
 home. That morning's letter, called forth by the 
 latest bulletin, brought news of the dismissal of 
 the new masseuse, coupled with elaborate instruc- 
 tions for a series of daily walks, to begin at once 
 and to increase as time went on. The letter closed 
 with a succinct phrase : " I have done all I can. 
 Now it is for you to finish up your perfect cure." 
 
 And, with that phrase still ringing in his head, 
 Rob had risen and, coffee cup in hand, in an inco- 
 herent speech, he had proposed the health of Day, 
 of the New York specialist and of the Exeter foot- 
 ball team. That drunk and the chairs pushed back 
 from the table, Rob had gone in search of his hat, 
 then of Janet. 
 
 It had been nearly three o'clock in the morning 
 when the cab, with Ronald and Rob inside, had
 
 316 JAKET: HER WINTER 
 
 driven from the ferry-house up Mountain Hill and 
 into Saint Louis Street. Nevertheless, even at 
 that unseemly hour, Janet's nose had been pressed 
 against the window. A moment later, Janet's right 
 hand had thrown open the door, her left had 
 seized on Rob's cold wrist and dragged him into 
 the warm, bright hall. 
 
 " She 's really and truthfully better, and I 'm so 
 glad you've come ! Are you dead, you poor thing ? 
 She 's asleep ; but she knew you were on the way," 
 Janet whispered tempestuously. " Come to the 
 library fire. I '11 take your coat and things." 
 And Rob, dazed by the light and warmth and wel- 
 come, by the sharp reaction from his fears, yielded 
 and let her fuss over him and coddle him at 
 will. 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of the allaying of his active 
 fears, his heart sank again when he learned how ill 
 Day had been, how very ill she was then. There 
 had been a sudden chill, followed by a total neglect 
 of certain symptoms. Twenty-four hours later, 
 Mrs. Argyle had come back from Montreal to find 
 Day curled up on her bed, her eyes glittering with 
 fever, her breath coming short, her cough incessant. 
 The girl had made light of her cough, had main- 
 tained a sturdy silence regarding the dull pain that 
 had settled on her whole body. Mrs. Argyle had 
 waited until the next morning. Then she had sent
 
 IN QUEBEC 317 
 
 for a doctor, and, later in the morning, she had 
 telegraphed for her husband and Rob. Twenty- 
 four hours later, the more alarming symptoms 
 were in check ; two weeks later, the disease and 
 the consequent weakness were still dragging out 
 their wonted course. Day's tardy yielding to the 
 disease had retarded by just so much her yielding 
 to its cure. By the end of the second week, she 
 was still in her own room. 
 
 Thither Rob had followed her as soon as he was 
 allowed to do so, and for as long. During the first 
 days after his return, however, he was permitted 
 in the room only for occasional five-minute calls. 
 The calls, elaborately made on the points of his 
 toes and with his heart in his throat, had sent him 
 away from the room again in a mood of deepest 
 depression. This was no Day he had ever known, 
 this wan, white-faced thing with the weak voice 
 and the lustreless eyes. He stood and stared 
 down at her dumbly, then mumbled a word or two 
 and fled from the room before the end of his al- 
 lotted five minutes. Later, he walked his room for 
 hours on end, or forced himself to dreary games of 
 solitaire wherein his question yes or no was answered 
 by the falling of the cards. And the questions 
 always framed themselves on Day's recovery, and 
 the answer was too often no. Still, the cards could 
 never tell the truth ; and, at least, they were better
 
 318 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 than trying to read. Then fate dealt him six noes 
 in succession, and he rose to pace the floor again 
 until it should be time for his next call. 
 
 In hours like this, Janet Leslie was his great 
 source of consolation. Full of her old cordial 
 friendliness, resolved at any cost to make amends 
 for the black shadow she had thrown upon their 
 past good times, the girl had adopted Rob Argyle 
 as her own especial care. Mrs. Argyle was all 
 absorbed in her attendance on the nurse and 
 Day, Mrs. Leslie in her attendance upon Mrs. 
 Argyle. Janet struck out upon a new line of 
 usefulness and made up her resolute young mind 
 that Rob needed attention as much as any of the 
 rest. She gave it to him unreservedly. Now 
 she came sweeping in upon him, abolished his 
 cards and substituted a Latin exercise which 
 she claimed she could not ferret out alone. 
 Then she moved softly across the twilight-dark- 
 ened room, to fall in step beside him and talk to 
 him with a steady persistency which broke down 
 his dreary mood. Again, when the tense quiet of 
 the afternoon rest hour lay on the house, she 
 coaxed him out for a turn on the terrace, or a 
 ride around the loop in the flat-wheeled car that 
 clanked a monotonous accompaniment to all 
 their random talk. And Rob came in, refreshed 
 and brightened, from all these little jaunts.
 
 IN QUEBEC 319 
 
 Moreover, he carried the brightening with him, 
 later, when he went in to visit Day. 
 
 Next to Janet, to his surprise, in these days 
 of dreary waiting, he turned to Ronald. His 
 turning was not wholly due to Ronald's greeting, 
 at the end of that tragic night of ice and storm. 
 In his mood, that night, Rob Argyle would have 
 sworn undying regard for anyone who brought 
 good news of Day. Ronald's face had been 
 enough to tell that, for Ronald himself, the news 
 brought no impersonal gladness. Nevertheless, 
 in the days which followed his return, Rob was 
 studying Ronald as never before, studying him 
 in the light of his long talks with Wade Win- 
 throp and with Sidney Stayre. Up to that time, 
 although he had had some vague realization that 
 Ronald had been disappointed by the sudden 
 reversing of all his plans, Rob had had no real 
 notion of how bitter that disappointment was. 
 To his mind, college meant little for a fellow 
 who did not care to go in for athletics. If the 
 grind were all, or if society, he could do those 
 of an evening, after he had clambered down 
 from his office stool. Lacking, too, all knowledge 
 of the Leslies in their more prosperous days, he 
 had had scanty comprehension of how great in 
 comparison was their present shabbiness, their 
 present need for scrimping. Until his last long
 
 320 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 talk with Wade, he had supposed it was from care- 
 less choice, not stern necessity, that Ronald wore 
 a last-year tie and forewent a hemstitched bor- 
 der to his handkerchiefs. He had made summary 
 comment, one night, on Ronald's tastelessness in 
 the minor articles of dress. Even now, he laughed 
 to himself as he recalled Sidney's swift denuncia- 
 tions of his comment. Janet, in the snow-bound 
 library, had been scarcely more vehement, more 
 sweeping. Nevertheless, now that he was back 
 in Quebec and face to face with the tall young 
 Canadian, Rob could realize to the full how much 
 such petty denials could have the power to exas- 
 perate him. To Rob Argyle, denied in nothing 
 save a concrete knowledge of the value of money, 
 it seemed that it would be far easier to give up a 
 year in Europe than to wear clothing of a past 
 year's cut. To wear it at all took some backbone. 
 To wear it and, still hating it, to treat it with 
 seeming unconsciousness, in Rob's eyes, amounted 
 to the heroic. And, if it were so in the matter of 
 clothes, how about some other things ? 
 
 In his long, idle days of waiting, Rob pondered 
 much upon the question. Strange to say, he had 
 never discussed with Day this phase of Ronald's 
 life. Rob had avoided the subject from the inher- 
 ent masculine hatred of petty gossip, Day from a 
 sense that Ronald's confidence had closed her
 
 IN QUEBEC 321 
 
 lips, when otherwise she might have spoken. 
 Now at last, however, there seemed to have come 
 home to Eob the consciousness of just what Ron- 
 ald Leslie's present life might be meaning to him. 
 
 " We "re all alike," he remarked to himself, one 
 night. " None of us are quite satisfied with what 
 we get out of the grab bag. I hanker for the 
 gridiron, Ronald hankers for the fleshpots. 
 Even Blanchard has his hankerings. Good old 
 Jack ! I wonder what 's become of him." 
 
 The wonder was answered, next day, when Rob 
 was summoned to the telephone. Blanchard, back 
 from his run to the south, had called him up to 
 ask for Day first, then for Rob himself. And Rob 
 had said to his father, as he had left the tele- 
 phone, 
 
 " Funny thing how you happen on a man and, 
 all at once, feel you're going to know him al- 
 ways ! You 11 never understand how good that 
 fellow was to me, nor what a gentleman he 
 really is." 
 
 Nevertheless, in his more active gratitude to 
 Blanchard, Rob had some shreds left over to give 
 to Ronald Leslie. Even more than Janet, Ronald 
 shared his anxiety for Day, his loneliness without 
 her. Night after night, long after Janet was in 
 bed, the two young fellows sat before the library 
 fire, while Ronald told over to Rob all of Day's 
 
 21
 
 322 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 doings during the weeks he had been away, told 
 him, too, of the bright, blithe comradeship of 
 the early fall when, sick and sore of heart, tired 
 of his unwonted confinement in the office, Day's 
 gayety had helped to hold him steady on his 
 feet. And Rob, in his turn, talked of New 
 York, of Wade and of Sidney, and of their lik- 
 ing for Ronald. And at last, one night, Rob 
 turned his steady, true blue eyes from the fire 
 and fixed them upon Ronald's face. 
 
 " Old man," he said ; "I 'm not sure I 've always 
 been quite fair to you. Maybe you were n't always 
 fair to me. We 're of two races, you know, two 
 sorts. Still let 's shake hands on it, and start 
 again." 
 
 That had been a week before. And now, with 
 Janet at his side, Rob was walking out the Grande 
 Alle*e, past the cabstand just outside the Louis Gate, 
 past the Parliament Buildings and on to the crest 
 of the little ridge where Montcalm drew up his 
 soldiers, on that far-off, fateful September day. 
 
 Janet caught her breath a little, as she went 
 down the gentle slope beyond. 
 
 " It 's funny," she said ; " but I never come out 
 here, without thinking I see it all. When I was a 
 little bit of a girl, before I knew they fought on 
 foot, I used to think I could hear their horses gal- 
 loping. But just think, Rob Argyle ! Right here
 
 IN QUEBEC 323 
 
 in the city, where we go to walk and where our 
 friends all live, those two great nations had their 
 last pitched battle. Does n't it make you shiver ? " 
 
 Rob turned up the collar of his coat. 
 
 " Not half so much as this beastly wind does," 
 he returned prosaically. 
 
 Janet frowned. Her father had been an histo- 
 rian spoiled in the making. The girl's earliest 
 bedtime stories had concerned themselves with that 
 battle-ground. 
 
 " How tiresome you are ! " she said, with a little 
 laugh. " I suppose it is because I was born here 
 that I care for it. I never pass that field," her 
 finger pointed towards the left ; " without thinking 
 that Wolfe was shot there in his brand-new uni- 
 form, nor come inside the Louis Gate without re- 
 membering the French woman standing there who 
 cried out that her general was killed. It 's no use. 
 You strangers never feel it." She began to laugh 
 again. "Did Day write you about the afternoon 
 we took Sir George Porteous out to the Cove ? " 
 
 Rob shook his head. In spite of the biting wind 
 and of his endeavours to stand upright on the 
 slippery pavements, his whole attention had been 
 concentrated upon Janet, upon her eager face and 
 upon her enthusiasm of the moment before. 
 
 " She did n't ? It was worth a letter. You see, 
 I know the ground, every inch of it, and love it,"
 
 324 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 she explained. "My father nearly wrote a book 
 about it ; and he used to bring ine here and talk to 
 me, until I almost felt as if it were my very own, 
 like something that had happened to me. Ronald 
 and I brought Day out here, just before you came, 
 last fall. It's a splendid walk, out across the 
 Plains, and through the woods and over some fences, 
 till you come to the path. Day loved it, and she 
 thought it would be fun to take Sir George. We 
 went out on suowshoes, and he had a fearful time, 
 lost his shoes off, every other step. And, when we' 
 got him there and expected him to be thrilled, 
 what do you think he said ? " 
 
 Again Rob shook his head. He was still watch- 
 ing the eager face, still held by the eager flow of 
 words. 
 
 " He said," Janet giggled, as she took on Sir 
 George's level voice ; " ' Came up here, by George ? 
 Why did n't the poor chap wait and build some 
 steps?'" 
 
 " Look here, Janet," Rob said suddenly, as they 
 turned away from the simple shaft that marks 
 Wolfe's victorious death ; " why don't you write 
 about it all ? I don't mean now, of course ; but 
 sometime." 
 
 Janet's colour came, and went. Then she low- 
 ered her eyes, while, half unconsciously, she laid 
 her hand on Rob's arm to steady him over the
 
 IN QUEBEC 325 
 
 uneven path which leads back to the Grande 
 Allfe. 
 
 " I used to think I would," she said slowly. 
 " But now I can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because it went, with all the rest of it." 
 
 Her cadence was a falling one. In it, Rob read 
 the presence of a secret he had never guessed. 
 
 " What went ? " he asked. 
 
 "Shall we take the car? No? You are sure 
 you can walk back ? I mean my little plan," she 
 answered, with her eyes still on the ground. 
 
 " What plan ? " he asked again. 
 
 " Did n't you know ? I thought Sidney might 
 have told you. She is going to college; just the 
 last day or two we were together, she began to 
 talk to me about it, to tease my mother to say I 
 might go, too. Mother would n't say. I suppose 
 now that she could n't ; but, the night after I came 
 home, the very night before " 
 
 "Yes, I know," Rob assented gently, for the 
 little quaver in Janet's resolute young voice struck 
 sadly on his ears. 
 
 Janet swallowed hard, for a moment. 
 
 " That very last night," she went on bravely, 
 then ; " I had a talk with my father. He was so 
 dear. He always was, but most so then. He told 
 me he was n't sure he could arrange it ; but that 
 he wished he could. And then he told me "
 
 326 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 This time, although the quaver came again, Rob 
 made no effort to speak. His eyes were dark, 
 dark blue, as he looked out across the distant 
 southern mountains. Janet broke the silence, 
 suddenly, resolutely. 
 
 " He told me it had always been his dream to 
 have one of his children finish up his work and 
 write the book. He had supposed it would be 
 Ronald, for boys are usually the ones who do such 
 things ; but Ronald was all for science and that 
 sort of thing. And now, if I felt I could do it, 
 would love to do it, he would give me all the train- 
 ing I could get, to fit me for it. All the next 
 night and day, I dreamed about it, dreamed and 
 thought. I was just sitting down to write to 
 Sidney, when when Ronald came and told us." 
 
 Rob's left hand had been buried in the fur-lined 
 pocket of his coat. He took it out and, regard- 
 less of who saw him, gave Janet's hand a hearty 
 squeeze. 
 
 " You '11 do it yet," he said. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 I can't." 
 
 Rob laughed at her tone. 
 
 " I never heard you say that till now, Janet," he 
 admonished her, with a swift return to his wonted 
 buoyancy. " A fellow can do anything he tries, if 
 he grits his teeth and goes to work."
 
 IN QUEBEC 327 
 
 " A fellow can't make money, where there is n't 
 any," she answered him. 
 
 "Pm not so sure of that. Besides, it doesn't 
 take much," Rob reassured her optimistically. 
 
 " Not much, if you have a lot," she responded 
 quaintly ; " but a great deal, when you haven't 
 any. Besides, your colleges cost more than ours." 
 
 " Then go to yours," Rob advised her promptly. 
 
 But she shook her head. 
 
 " You want to go with Sidney, I suppose. You 
 know Day is going, too. She'll go to Smith." 
 
 " That is Sidney's College," Janet assented list- 
 lessly. "It's where I wanted, meant to go." 
 
 " But, if McGill is cheaper ? " 
 
 She roused herself and spoke with spirit. 
 
 " I don't want McGill. My father did n't, either. 
 If I am to do his work, I must learn to see all 
 sides, not sit down and look at it from a hummock 
 on the Cove Fields. If I go to McGill, I shall see 
 our side and nothing else. I love my Canada ; 
 it 's the best country in the world. Still, I won't 
 do my father's work, unless I can do it in the very 
 best way, and the only way to do that is to learn 
 to look at it from a little farther off." 
 
 In the enthusiasm of the moment, Janet's girl- 
 islmess had fallen from her. She spoke with the 
 purpose, with the steady fire of a grown-up woman. 
 Rob, looking down upon her as she tramped for-
 
 328 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 ward at his side, was conscious, in that moment, 
 of a new-born admiration, less for what Janet was 
 than for what she might be in the future years. 
 At last lie spoke, and his voice was full of hearty 
 approbation. 
 
 " I think you'll make it in the end, Janet. Some- 
 thing will come up to help you put it through." 
 
 " But I don't want to be helped," she made un- 
 daunted answer. 
 
 Laughing a little, Rob held up his stick before 
 her. 
 
 " Sometimes a little help is useful," he told her 
 gayly. " At least, it steadies us until we can get 
 back on our feet again." Then the laughter left 
 his eyes, and he looked down at her with the kindly 
 smile of an older brother. " Go on, Janet," he 
 bade her gravely. " You '11 win out in the end, if 
 you '11 only stick to your plan." And, years after- 
 ward, they laughed together over his prophecy and 
 its fulfilment.
 
 IN QUEBEC 329 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 THREE weeks later, as Ronald came up from 
 the office for the Saturday half-holiday, an 
 unwonted mood of buoyancy lay upon him, making 
 even the rivulets in the streets, sloppy with the 
 first spring thaw, matters of small account. For 
 two or three weeks, the office had been coming 
 upon Ronald's nerves : the early punctuality of 
 his morning start down town, the long, dull day 
 which began and ended under the electric lights, 
 the growing responsibility of business which had 
 been thrown upon him after his last talk with his 
 chief, the care and anxiety, growing even faster, 
 as to whether the contents of the coal-bin would 
 outlast an abnormally severe winter : all these had 
 worn upon him and strained his nerves to their 
 utmost tension. Under the wear and tear of 
 small worries which concerned themselves with 
 the length of life of his shoes and gloves, witli the 
 least possible amount of draft which could be 
 given to the furnace, his step was losing its alert- 
 ness, his rich colour was fading a little, his shoul- 
 ders were less erect. By steady self-control, he
 
 330 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 kept his temper level ; but the winter, long and 
 pitiless, had told upon his sense of humour. He 
 talked less, and he left to Rob and Janet the spar- 
 ring which enlivened the hours at table. Now and 
 then, as the clock struck two, and then three, and 
 then four, he rolled over on his pillow and wondered 
 what would be the end of it all. And Mr. Argyle 
 was talking of returning home at Easter. There 
 would be three long months, before the summer 
 tide of boarders would set in, even supposing that 
 his mother would feel herself able to cope with the 
 transient tourist tribe. 
 
 That noon, however, with a sudden and unac- 
 countable rush, all depression had fled from 
 Ronald's mood. With his head held high, his 
 tread ringing out upon the pavement, he went 
 tramping up the hill towards home. It was some- 
 thing that his tread could ring out on any pave- 
 ment, so long had the walks been muffled in their 
 winter coats. The streets which led to Lower 
 Town were crossed and crossed again by threads 
 of running water ; and the sky above, a clear 
 Italian blue, held in its tints the promise of an 
 early spring. Ronald's tread grew even more alert, 
 as he ran up the steps at home and fitted his latch- 
 key in the T-shaped hole. It was a glorious day. 
 He would lure Rob out for the longest possible 
 walk.
 
 IN QUEBEC 331 
 
 To his surprise, he found Sir George Porteous 
 enthroned before the library fire. Rob, in a chair 
 at the opposite end of the rug, was making heroic 
 efforts to keep the conversation going ; but it was 
 plain to Ronald's eye that Sir George was low in 
 his mind, and that Rob's benevolent efforts were 
 fast coming to an end. Rob Argyle was broad- 
 minded and open to conviction. He had been 
 quite ready to take Jack Blanchard, Pullman 
 hireling though he was, upon familiar, friendly 
 terms. Not all the broad-mindedness in the world, 
 however, could make Rob understand the new 
 position of Sir George Porteous inside the Leslie 
 home. 
 
 " I never yearned to own a monkey, myself," he 
 confided to Day, one night. " Still, if you must 
 keep one, I 'm glad he never fails to be amusing." 
 
 Nevertheless, if only out of deference to his 
 mother's wish, Rob treated Sir George with a 
 scrupulous courtesy whose only lapses were marked 
 by occasional hasty retreats from the room. 
 
 " I 've a beastly cough, you know," Rob had 
 said, by way of explanation of one such exit. " It 
 seems to hang on me, too. I begin to think I 
 sha'n't get rid of it, until I'm back in New York." 
 
 As Ronald's step sounded in the hall, Sir George 
 sat up in his chair and betook himself to his eye- 
 glass.
 
 332 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Oh, it 's you ; is it ? I came to see you. How 
 do you do ? " he explained, when Ronald appeared 
 upon the library threshold. 
 
 " Glad to see you." Ronald nodded affably, for 
 his buoyant mood was still upon him. " Where 
 have you been keeping yourself, this last week ? " 
 
 "I have been thinking," Sir George announced 
 sombrely. 
 
 And Rob, choking, fled from the room. 
 
 It was merciful, perhaps, that he did flee, for 
 Ronald, disconcerted by his hurried exit, fitted his 
 reply to the accent of Sir George, rather than to 
 his words. 
 
 " I 'm sorry," he said politely. 
 
 And then silence fell. 
 
 Sir George broke the silence, but only after a 
 long interval. 
 
 " I 'm in a regular brute of a mess," he said. 
 
 Swiftly Ronald's mind journeyed to and fro from 
 policemen to usurers. Sir George scarcely seemed 
 a roistering blade, neither was he likely to be in 
 financial difficulties. Ronald's mind leaped for- 
 ward and took its stand upon a third alternative. 
 Sir George must be in love. 
 
 *A 
 
 " I am sorry," he repeated. " Can I be of any 
 use?" 
 
 " I really don't know," Sir George responded 
 blankly. " My uncle is dead."
 
 IN QUEBEC 333 
 
 The matter-of-course announcement, coupled with 
 the fact of his twice having used the same phrase 
 of sympathy, hampered Ronald's tongue. 
 
 " How very sad ! " he said at length. 
 
 Sir George leaned back in his chair. 
 
 " You find it so ? " he queried dispassionately. 
 
 "Of course. Don't you?" 
 
 " Oh, no. Why should I ? He was so old, you 
 know, and had lost his mind and the use of his 
 legs," Sir George made tranquil explanation. " It 
 was n't sudden in the least." 
 
 " How did you hear ? " Ronald inquired politely, 
 although somewhat at a loss how to frame his 
 condolences. 
 
 " They cabled. You see, I inherit," Sir George 
 explained, with utter nonchalance. 
 
 "Inherit?" 
 
 " Yes, the title, and the estates, and all that. 
 I '11 have to be going home. There 's the mess." 
 
 Ronald's face cleared a little, as he grasped what 
 appeared to be the only clue to Sir George's 
 depression. 
 
 " And you hate to say good-by to us, Sir George ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; I don't mind about that," Sir George 
 gave disconcerting answer. 
 
 " But you feel badly about your uncle ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; it 's not that, either. I never saw him 
 but once. He was a queer old duck, and he and
 
 334 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 my father had a row," Sir George made still more 
 disconcerting answer. 
 
 " Then what do you mind ? " Ronald asked 
 bluntly. " I don't see that you have much cause 
 to complain." 
 
 His head immovable against the back of his 
 chair, Sir George allowed his eyes to follow the 
 tall figure of his companion who had risen impa- 
 tiently and gone to pacing the rug. His jaw, 
 meanwhile, sagged slightly, and his expression 
 was one of tranquil complacency. 
 
 " I 'in feeling fussed," he said at length. " It 
 really is a brute of a mess." 
 
 " What is ? " Ronald demanded, while he halted 
 midway of the rug and rested his elbow beside the 
 clock on the mantel. 
 
 " It all," Sir George explained. " My going 
 home, and the things I '11 do, when I get there." 
 
 Ronald curbed his impatience. Never had Sir 
 George appeared more futile ; never, though, had 
 he been more plainly worried. Suddenly he looked 
 up with a smile. 
 
 " That 's what I want of you, you know," he 
 added. 
 
 Ronald stared. 
 
 What is ? " 
 
 " To do the things." 
 
 "What things?"
 
 IN QUEBEC 335 
 
 " The things to be done at home." 
 
 This time, Ronald permitted himself to laugh. 
 
 " But I 'm not inheriting, Sir George." 
 
 The next moment his conscience smote him, for 
 Sir George's glance was appealing, his voice full of 
 pathos. 
 
 " No," he assented. " I only wish you did, you 
 know. You 'd do it better than I can." 
 
 Ronald dropped down again into his chair. 
 
 " Don't worry, Sir George," he said kindly. " Of 
 course, I know at first there '11 be a lot of care and 
 responsibility. But it will get itself to running 
 easily enough in time." 
 
 Sir George's face cleared at Ronald's change of 
 tone. 
 
 " That 's what I said to myself," he said eagerly. 
 " I sat and thought, and thought. All at once, it 
 came like a flash, and I said, ' Leslie's the very 
 fellow.' " 
 
 " Thanks," Ronald said. " For what ? " 
 
 " To get things running. You see," Sir George 
 fell to checking the items on his fingers ; " there 's 
 the town house, and the country place, and the 
 tenants' dinner, and the hunt ball, and the " 
 He paused and sought the corners of his mind. 
 " Oh, yes, I know. There 's the mourning liveries 
 and that. That 's why I want you," he added help- 
 lessly. " I don't know about such things."
 
 336 JANET: HER WINTI-l! 
 
 " Nor I," Ronald asserted with energy. 
 
 " Oh, no ; but you can learn." 
 
 " And so will you," Ronald suggested. 
 But Sir George shook his head. 
 
 " I can't. I can't learn things," he said, and 
 there came a sadness in his tone. " I know it, 
 know it as well as you do. I was plucked at col- 
 lege, and they tried to buy me into the army ; but 
 I could n't make that, either. I 'd like to be clever 
 like you, you know ; but I fancy I never could. And 
 now look at me!" And Ronald, looking, was as- 
 tounded at the sudden determination in Sir George's 
 face. " Here I am, not clever in the least, and I 've 
 just come into one of the largest estates in Eng- 
 land. And, by George ! " Sir George added, in a 
 desperate outburst ; " what am I going to do with 
 it, now I Ve got it ? " 
 
 "Manage it," Ronald said, with an optimism 
 which he was far from feeling. 
 
 Sir George spoke again. This time his tone be- 
 tokened a steady determination. 
 
 " With you," he said. 
 
 Ronald looked, as he felt, bewildered. 
 
 " What have I to do with it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Come home with me, as my secretary." 
 
 " I can't." 
 
 " Why not ? " The determination was still there. 
 
 " Impossible. I 'in tied up here with mother and 
 Janet."
 
 IN QUEBEC 337 
 
 Sir George's jaw shut, as he rose to his feet and 
 stood looking down at the young Canadian. 
 
 " There 's the salary, too, you know," he said, 
 and he named the sum. 
 
 " Sir George, I never could take that." 
 
 " But it 's what it 's worth to me. Listen ! " He 
 raised his hand, white and shapely and marked with 
 a single ring, a crest in its plain setting. " I can't 
 do it alone, you know. I have no head for business. 
 I can do the social things, drink tea and dance. 
 Perhaps, with you to coach me, I could even 
 do the politics. But the business would be in no 
 end of a mess. I must have some fellow to do 
 it for me, and there 's no fellow else I want, you 
 know." 
 
 " But if I can't ? " Ronald said slowly. 
 
 Sir George's accent lost its determination and 
 took on a new tone, one of pleading. 
 
 " I don't like many fellows," he explained, simply 
 as a child might have done. " I took to you that 
 first night at dinner, and I 've liked you ever since. 
 You never chaff, you know, and " the words came 
 with a dropping cadence ; " and any fellow gets a 
 bit tired of being chaffed." 
 
 And even Ronald's direct gaze fell before the 
 steady, trusting eyes. 
 
 "Sir George," he said at length; "I'm sorry. 
 
 I wish I could go." 
 
 22
 
 338 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " You 'd like it, then ? " Sir George made eager 
 question. 
 
 Ronald reflected swiftly, swiftly balanced all the 
 pros and cons. 
 
 " Yes," he answered honestly then. " Yes, I 'd 
 like it. Still, it is quite impossible." 
 
 " Really, I don't see why." 
 
 Ronald looked up. 
 
 " I 'm not for myself alone," he answered. 
 " There 's Janet and my mother." 
 
 Standing bolt upright in the middle of the room, 
 Sir George compressed his lips until the wrinkles 
 were graven deeply in his cheeks. Then of a 
 sudden he faced about and started for the door. 
 
 " I say," he exclaimed alertly ; " I say, let 's ask 
 them now." And, before Ronald could stop him, 
 he had crossed the hall and knocked on the dining- 
 room door. 
 
 Late that night and for two nights after, the 
 Leslie library became the scene of such a detailed 
 argument as its walls had never known till then. 
 After her first consternation at the thought of 
 losing her oldest-born child out of the home, Mrs. 
 Leslie had thrown herself, heart and soul, upon the 
 side of Sir George Porteous. The offered salary, 
 she confessed to herself, was abnormally large. 
 Nevertheless, mother-like, she looked beyond that, 
 far beyond. To one like Ronald, steady, earnest,
 
 IN QUEBEC 339 
 
 there would be by far more education in the new 
 life offered him than in years of McGill and gradu- 
 ate schools. Moreover, she had been by no means 
 blind to the way even Ronald's vigorous young 
 strength was faltering before the rigid confinement 
 of his office life. Sir George's offer would bring 
 him freedom from the deadly routine which led 
 nowhere ; while she had assured herself, both by 
 her own observations and by the careful inquiries 
 of Mr. Argyle, that Sir George's influence, while 
 not exactly stimulating, would yet be upon the side 
 of cleanly, man- like living. She urged the new 
 position upon Ronald with all the fervour of the 
 same iron will which, months before, had led her, 
 even in the first shadow of her grief, to open her 
 home to the Argyles. 
 
 To her will, however, Ronald opposed one just 
 as firm. He was in no way deceived by her state- 
 ments that she would be happier with him in Eng- 
 land ; it was no part of his plan to go to live in the 
 comparative luxury of his offered surroundings, and 
 leave his mother and Janet to tug on alone. Had 
 he been wholly free, he would have leaped at the 
 chance to go, would have grasped it with both 
 hands. Like his mother, he had been quick to see 
 its opportunities for his growth. Nevertheless, he 
 had also seen the blue-white ring come into sight 
 about his mother's lips, when Sir George, with un-
 
 340 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 wonted directness, had stated to her his need of 
 Ronald's services. He stoutly refused to listen to 
 one single word in favour of his going. 
 
 For two whole evenings and a fraction of the 
 third, the tide of argument ebbed and flowed. At 
 last, however, late upon the third evening, Janet 
 flung herself headlong into the discussion. 
 
 "Ronald?" 
 
 Ronald had been pacing, pacing the floor. Now 
 he turned sharply to face his sister, as she sat 
 curled up in a deep chair, her feet tucked under 
 her and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 " If mother were dead and I were in college, 
 what should you do ? " 
 
 " Janet ! " he rebuked her sharply. 
 
 " Well, I know. But we are n't, and my sup- 
 posing it doesn't make us so; does it, mummy? 
 But what should you do ? " 
 
 Ronald shut his lips until his face was lined with 
 two deep creases, not unlike those of Sir George. 
 
 " Go," he said shortly. 
 
 Janet unclasped her hands, leaned her elbows on 
 the chair-arm and put her chin on her palms. For 
 an instant, she watched him, while she beat a 
 tattoo on either cheek. Then, 
 
 " Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because I 'd have nothing to keep me here."
 
 IN QUEBEC 341 
 
 Far back in Janet's eyes there came a mocking 
 gleam. 
 
 " Thanks, dear boy ! But, even then, you just 
 said you didn't want to go, in any case." 
 
 Fairly cornered, Ronald opened his mouth to 
 speak, then shut it, speechless. Again Janet 
 watched him. Then she slid out of her chair, 
 crossed the rug and slipped her hand in his. 
 
 " Brother," she said slowly ; " it will half kill me 
 to have you go ; and yet I want to have you do it. 
 It is the best thing for you, the best thing and the 
 biggest. If you like it over there, some day you 
 can send for mummy and me, and we '11 all live 
 there together. We are English, you know, just 
 as English as Sir George is. It may be like a 
 going home for you. You've always said you 
 liked Sir George, in spite of his queerness. He 's 
 been good to you, to us all. Now, for a while, you 
 can be good to him. And, besides, if you truth- 
 fully don't like it, you can always take the first 
 steamer that sails for home. Only," her voice 
 broke a little ; " only send us word in time, so we 
 can get the fattest calf that ever lived." 
 
 "But you and mother," Ronald urged. 
 
 Janet's chin rose in the air. 
 
 " I will look out for mother," she said conclu- 
 sively. And she kept her word. 
 
 Nevertheless, the tide of argument rose again,
 
 342 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 and again it ebbed. However, each ebbing and 
 flowing now was only washing them nearer to one 
 fixed point, and that point was Ronald's going. 
 
 Janet accompanied her brother, the next even- 
 ing, when he set out to the Chateau, to acquaint 
 Sir George with his decision. The decision had 
 been wrung from him with infinite toil, and Janet 
 had no mind to have that toil set at naught by any 
 possible change in Ronald's intention. Back in the 
 depths of her girlish brain, she had settled the 
 point for herself once and for all. Ronald must 
 go. It was the chance of a lifetime, not only in 
 itself, but for the sake of other chances which 
 might come in its train. Janet already looked 
 upon Ronald as the coming premier of England. 
 Mrs. Leslie took the case more simply. She 
 regarded Ronald as facing a future which held in 
 its grasp more opportunity than anything she had 
 it in her power to offer. Mother-like, she was 
 willing to endure his absence for tbe sake of what 
 that absence might do for him. Like Janet, she 
 was wholly resolved upon his going. Like Janet, 
 she feared his promise would be revoked in the 
 end, and she had hailed gladly Janet's suggestion 
 of acting as his escort. 
 
 They found Sir George in the main drawing- 
 room, lounging on the circular divan which rings 
 the central pillar. His eyes were fixed upon the
 
 IN QUEBEC 343 
 
 ceiling ; but his mouth, slightly ajar, stirred now 
 and then, as if speaking words relating to the 
 obvious anxiety which furrowed the brow above. 
 Clothed from head to foot in decorous and sombre 
 black, Sir George looked a very youthful and 
 a futile heir to all the responsibility which awaited 
 him ; and Janet, as she studied him, did not wonder 
 that, in view of what was now before him, he was 
 putting off from day to day the engaging of his 
 passage home. 
 
 Absorbed in his silent communings, Sir George 
 paid no heed to their coming ; and, quite unseen, 
 they paused close at his side. Then, 
 
 " Sir George," said Janet. 
 
 Sir George started abruptly. 
 
 " Eh ? Oh, I say, how do you do ? I was think- 
 ing about you. Sit down." And, as they obeyed 
 his hospitable bidding, Sir George apparently 
 returned to his former meditation, for no further 
 word fell from his moving lips. 
 
 Once, twice, Ronald started to speak. But he 
 checked the impulse, checked it in sheer dread of 
 all to which his speech was sure to bind him. 
 Then he rose to his feet, straightened his shoulders, 
 and resolutely, courageously looked the future in 
 the eyes. 
 
 " Sir George," he said briefly; " I came, to-night, 
 to tell you that I have made my decision. I accept
 
 344 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 your offer, and I am ready to sail when you see 
 fit." 
 
 Slowly the vacant gaze of Sir George gathered 
 itself to a focus upon Ronald Leslie's strong young 
 face, gathered to a focus, then lighted with sudden, 
 earnest pleasure. Then he sank back in his seat 
 again, as if, for him, anxiety were at an end. 
 
 " How rummy ! " said Sir George Porteous.
 
 IN QUEBEC 345 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 "QHABBY! Shabby! Shabby!" Janet said, 
 
 k]3 in an abrupt wave of disgust. 
 
 An elderly glove in one hand, a threaded needle 
 in the other, Janet was settled in Mrs. Argyle's 
 sitting-room. Mrs. Argyle glanced up, at the 
 sudden desperation in the girl's tone. 
 
 " What is it, Janet ? " she asked kindly. 
 
 Janet forced herself to laugh ; but the laugh 
 was not quite steady. 
 
 " Nothing ; only my gloves are so tender that 
 they won't hold the stitches," she answered. 
 
 Mrs. Argyle laid down her own work. 
 
 " Let me see. Did you ever try to mend 
 gloves with a buttonhole stitch ? " she asked, with 
 the practicality which years of riches had been 
 powerless to blunt. " They hold better so. Let 
 me try." 
 
 Janet shook her head. 
 
 " Really, they are so awful that I hate to have 
 you see them," she protested. 
 
 Mrs. Argyle laughed. 
 
 " When I was your age, Janet, I wore shabbier
 
 346 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 gloves than you ever dreamed of having," she 
 answered. 
 
 " You could n't. They would n't have held 
 together," Janet said flatly. Nevertheless, she 
 put an aged ruin into Mrs. Argyle's outstretched 
 hand. " Mrs. Argyle," she added desperately ; 
 " I do hate to be shabby. I am willing to wear 
 plain things ; but I do want them whole." 
 
 From the other side of the room, Day laughed 
 a little unfeelingly. 
 
 " When the worst really comes, Janet, I 
 advise you to economize on your stockings," 
 she suggested. 
 
 Janet thrust out one slim ankle and surveyed 
 it with swift disdain. 
 
 u But I can't," she said. " These are the 
 cheapest that are made, the cheapest that are 
 worth the darning." 
 
 "Cheap!" Day's voice was expressive. "I 
 never wear such stockings." 
 
 " No," Janet said composedly ; " I suppose you 
 don't." 
 
 "Then I don't see why you should plead pov- 
 erty," Day said again. " We are n't poor, and 
 I adore pretty stockings ; but I can't afford any 
 sucli embroidery as that." 
 
 Onoe more Janet thrust out her slim, violet- 
 sprinkled ankle. Then she laughed.
 
 IN QUEBEC 347 
 
 " Oh, is that what you are driving at ? " she 
 asked. " I could n't think what you meant. 
 These are just common stockings. I embroid- 
 ered them, myself." 
 
 " Janet Leslie ! " Day was down on the floor, 
 pulling aside Janet's skirt. 
 
 Janet laughed again in girlish pleasure. After 
 all her shabbiness, it was good to find that, 
 in some one item, her dress could arouse the 
 admiration of a girl like Day. 
 
 "You think they are pretty?" she questioned. 
 
 " Pretty ! They are adorable. Who taught 
 you to do such work ? " 
 
 "The nuns." 
 
 Day clasped her hands. 
 
 " Janet ! Do you suppose they ever could teach 
 me?" 
 
 " If you worked long enough." 
 
 " How long ? " 
 
 " This is my first year out of the convent. I 
 went in when I was seven." 
 
 Day counted swiftly. 
 
 "You are fourteen. Seven years." Then her 
 tone lost its alertness. " And we are going 
 home in about three weeks. Oh, dear!" 
 
 "I'll do some for you," Janet volunteered. 
 " I love to do them." 
 
 " Come here, Janet," Mrs. Argyle bade her.
 
 348 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Put up your foot, child, and let me see them. 
 Where do you get your patterns ? " 
 
 " Why, I make them up," Janet answered, in 
 obvious surprise at such a question. 
 
 Mrs. Argyle lifted the black skirt, drew her 
 fingers slowly across the firm, smooth stitches, 
 let the skirt fall again, and looked up at Janet. 
 
 " Janet," she said quietly ; " I shall be glad to 
 furnish the stockings and pay you a dollar a 
 pair for doing a dozen pairs for me." 
 
 " But, Mrs. Argyle ! " Janet, scarlet now, had 
 dropped on the floor at Mrs. Argyle's feet and 
 was facing her with blazing eyes. " After all 
 you have done for me, do you suppose I would n't 
 love to do you all you want?" 
 
 Reaching out her hand, Mrs. Argyle took hold of 
 the resolute little chin and turned the face upward. 
 
 " Janet, dear, you 'd sew your fingers off for 
 me, if it were necessary ; but fortunately it is n't. 
 No ; listen, dear. Your stockings are beautiful, 
 much prettier than those I have seen in the 
 shops. It will be doing me a great favour, if 
 you will embroider some for Day and me." 
 
 " And give them to you," Janet begged. 
 
 " No, dear. You '11 give the design, the origi- 
 nality of them ; but I shall pay for the work." 
 
 " But not four times what it is worth," Janet 
 persisted.
 
 IN QUEBEC 349 
 
 Mrs. Argylc laughed. 
 
 u I 'm not, Janet. In fact, I have paid more, 
 ever so much more for work not half so good. 
 If you only had the time, child, I could get 
 orders for you in New York for all the stockings 
 you could do." 
 
 Janet caught her breath. 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Argyle ? Truthfully ? " 
 
 " True as anything can be." 
 
 " But I can do them so fast. I could do ever 
 so many in a week," she said, with breathless 
 haste for, all at once, there had flashed up 
 within her a sudden hope which, she had con- 
 fessed to Rob, she had supposed forever dead. 
 
 " Why don't you go into business, Janet ? " Day 
 suggested practically. " There 's one woman in 
 New York who supports herself just by tying 
 pretty bows, and another who has a great reputa- 
 tion, making scalloped cakes for children's parties. 
 The first thing we always used to ask was whether 
 there would be Severs cakes. Why don't you go 
 in for stockings, and make yourself a name and 
 fortune ? " 
 
 And Janet answered slowly, 
 
 "Do you know, Day, I really believe I will. 
 That is," she looked up at Mrs. Argyle with eyes 
 where courage and hope and appealing wishful- 
 ness were mingled ; " that is, if your mother will 
 help me start."
 
 350 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 "Start what?" Rob demanded, as he appeared 
 upon the threshold, with his father at his side. 
 
 It was Day who answered, for Janet coloured 
 and fell silent. Her new-born plan as yet seemed 
 to her too feeble to be displayed to other eyes than 
 those of Day and Mrs. Argyle. Moreover, she was 
 never quite at ease with Mr. Argyle whose brisk 
 alertness and decision always made Janet think of 
 one of the locomotives on the railway of which he 
 was president. She admired him unreservedly ; 
 but she wondered without cease how Rob could be 
 such chums with a man whom she so dreaded. 
 
 "Janet has unfolded her napkin and found her 
 talent," Day said, as she made room for her father 
 by her side. " She is going to win renown on her 
 embroidered stockings." 
 
 Rob strode across the floor and sat himself down 
 on the arm of his mother's chair. 
 
 "To quote the language of Sir George, how 
 rummy ! " he observed. " Janet, I bespeak your 
 services for me and Dad. I '11 have a football on 
 mine, one leg, that is, and a pair of goal posts on 
 the other. Then they can chase each other when 
 I walk. As for Dad, he '11 have a traim of choo- 
 choo cars around each ankle, just above his ties." 
 
 And, in the protesting groans that followed, 
 Janet gathered up her work and prepared to make 
 her escape. She met Ronald, however, upon the
 
 IN QUEBEC 351 
 
 threshold, and Ronald faced her about into the 
 room once more. 
 
 " Come with me, while I break my news," he 
 bade her, for it had been agreed, three days before, 
 that nothing should be said to the Argyles regard- 
 ing Sir George's offer, until some decision had been 
 reached. 
 
 Day heard him, and she pricked up her ears. 
 
 " What news, Ronald ? " she demanded promptly. 
 
 Laughing, he faced her, with a swift aside, 
 
 " I have my mount. Are you glad ? " 
 
 If he had expected that she would need explana- 
 tion of his words, he was mistaken. She nodded 
 back at him eagerly. 
 
 " I told you it would come, before I went away." 
 
 "And you also told me " 
 
 She caught the words from his lips. 
 
 " Told you truly that none of your friends would 
 be gladder than I." 
 
 His colour came. Day's friendship had grown 
 very dear to him, during those winter weeks. 
 
 " It is true, then ? " he asked, while he looked 
 steadily down into her eyes. 
 
 Rising, she took his hand. 
 
 "Yes, Ronald, it is," she said simply. "You 
 ought to know it by now." 
 
 From the other side of the room, Rob struck in 
 resignedly.
 
 352 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " When you two have finished your minuet over 
 there, I should like to remind Ronald that we are 
 panting to hear his news." 
 
 Ronald laughed, as he faced ahout. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, everybody," he replied. 
 " My news is a bit startling, too. I am to sail for 
 England, two weeks from Saturday." 
 
 " Ronald ! " Then Day checked herself abruptly, 
 while Janet wondered at her changing colour. 
 
 " Wish I were ! " Rob commented promptly. 
 "There's a hint for you, Dad. What takes you, 
 Ronald ?"' 
 
 " Sir George. I 'm to go as his secretary." 
 
 " Ronald, you lucky man ! Barring the slight 
 lack of brains, Sir George will be one of the com- 
 ing men. His uncle was endlessly rich and all 
 that. When did this thing materialize ?" 
 
 " Last night at eight o'clock," Janet answered 
 for her brother. "I really settled it, the night 
 before; but we only announced it to Sir George, 
 last night." 
 
 " We ! " Rob made a gesture of scorn at Janet. 
 
 " Yes, we," she answered firmly. " Ronald was 
 bound he would n't leave us and go ; and I did n't 
 dare trust him to see Sir George alone, so I went, 
 too, and helped him to break the news." 
 
 Rob turned from Janet back to Janet's brother. 
 
 "I'm no good at words, old man," he said, as
 
 IN QUEBEC 353 
 
 his hand shut hard on Ronald's fingers. "You 
 know how glad I am. That office was wearing the 
 life out of you. You took it like a trump ; but you 
 never could have held out long. You are n't built 
 for things like that. You 're going in for a much 
 better time, and I 'm mighty glad you are." 
 
 And Day added softly, 
 
 " Yes. It was Kismet, after all." 
 
 " And yet," Rob said to his father, half an hour 
 later ; " I can't say I envy the fellow. He is in for 
 easy work and a large salary ; but there are other 
 things to be considered. With a hand-organ to 
 grind, his outfit would be complete ; but mercifully 
 Ronald Leslie's sense of humour is n't too acute." 
 
 The chorus of question and congratulation was 
 ended, and Janet had swept Mrs. Argyle and Day 
 off in search of her mother. Rob and his father 
 were sitting alone before the fire. 
 
 Mr. Argyle looked up at his son's words, laughed 
 a little, then grew grave once more. 
 
 " No," he said ; " it is n't what I should have 
 chosen ; but I 'm not sure it 's not the best thing 
 for Ronald. It may in time lead to something more 
 important. Still " 
 
 " Still ? " Rob jogged his father, after it seemed 
 to him the pause had lasted altogether too long. 
 
 " Still, I confess I am rather sorry." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 23
 
 354 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Because I have been keeping an eye on the 
 fellow, myself." 
 
 " And somebody else came in ahead on the 
 deal ? " Rob inquired irreverently. " Too bad, 
 Dad ! Next time you 'd better go about it a little 
 earlier. What were you after ? " 
 
 Mr. Argyle thoughtfully clasped his hands, then 
 opened out the two forefingers and looked at them 
 intently. 
 
 " I had been watching Leslie for weeks," he said 
 again, and it was plain from his voice that he was 
 disappointed. " I want just such a man as he is, 
 young, steady, willing to work at whatever comes. 
 Leslie was just the one. In time, he would have 
 made his way to the front." 
 
 Rob faced his father steadily. 
 
 " I see," he said. " You wanted a man you 
 could train for some especial thing." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 "For manager up here. We^ have put through 
 our deal ; it won't be long before we need a manager 
 for these Canadian lines, and that manager by 
 rights ought to be " 
 
 " A Canadian." Rob capped his sentence for 
 him. 
 
 " Yes. I think he would get on better with the 
 people up here."
 
 IN QUEBEC 355 
 
 Rob laughed, as there suddenly flashed into his 
 mind the memory of one snowy day in the 
 library. 
 
 " Yes," he echoed. " I think he would." Then 
 once more he faced his father gravely. " Well," 
 he demanded ; " now you 've lost your chance at 
 Ronald, what are you going to do next ? " 
 
 For an instant, his father's eyes rested upon him 
 with manifest pride. 
 
 " Wait for you," he said then. 
 
 Rob shook his head. 
 
 " I 'm no good, Dad ; I 'm not steady enough. 
 Besides, you 've always said I must go through 
 college. That makes six years to wait." 
 
 " And I want the man, next month," Mr. Argyle 
 made thoughtful answer. " I want him in my 
 office, Rob; I want him to be trained from the 
 first, trained under my own eye." 
 
 Rob nodded. 
 
 " I know. Just as grandfather trained you ; 
 just as you '11 train me, Dad, once I am out of 
 college." For a moment, he was silent, while he 
 bent forward and prodded the fire. Then of a sud- 
 den he sat up and looked at his father, his lips un- 
 steady with his eagerness, his blue eyes blazing. 
 " Dad," he said, and, as he spoke, he gripped his 
 courage fast ; " I think You want a fellow, as I 
 understand it, a Canadian fellow who is steady and
 
 356 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 loyal and willing to work at whatever comes, a 
 fellow that 's all-round a man ? " 
 
 His father nodded, too intent upon his son's face 
 to feel the need for words. 
 
 " Then," Rob spoke more slowly, and, while he 
 spoke, he rose and faced his father steadily ; "then, 
 Dad, I think I know the man you want." 
 
 It was nearly half an hour later that Day's voice 
 was heard in the hall outside. Rising, Mr. Argyle 
 put an end to the long talk. 
 
 " 1 like what you tell me, Rob," he said then. 
 " I will make a few inquiries about the fellow, and 
 see what I can find out." 
 
 Four days later, Rob crossed to Levis. The noon 
 sun lay warm upon the river which glittered back 
 again in every shade of blue and gray. Here and 
 there a bit of ice, broken from the bridge which 
 still held firm at Cap Rouge, came sliding down the 
 tide ; but, for the most part, the river was wholly 
 clear. The wind swept sharply down the stream ; 
 yet Rob, his collar turned high about his ears, lin- 
 gered in the bow, looking out upon the river, while 
 his mind went back to his last crossing. Even now 
 he could hear the hoarse cries from the pilot-house, 
 could hear the angry grinding of the ice, could feel 
 the steady, steely grip of Blanchard's hand upon 
 his arm. Rob shut his teeth and stared out across 
 the gleaming river which all at once seemed dan-
 
 fN QUEBEC 357 
 
 cing in a mist before his eyes. Two steady eyes 
 seemed meeting his ; and, above the noise of the 
 ice, the echo of his own voice was in his ears, 
 " We '11 fight it out together till the end." 
 From close at hand behind the corner of the 
 foundry wall, there came a resounding whistle, 
 just as Rob stepped upon the pier. The next in- 
 stant, the long brown train swept in and halted, 
 puffing, beside the crowded platform. Regardless 
 of past strains and aches, Rob made after it, caught 
 it up and came to a halt beside the steps of the 
 Springfield sleeper. The porter saw him first and 
 grinned a welcome ; but Rob, for once, ignored a 
 greeting. His eyes were all for a pair of wide, 
 blue-coated shoulders, for a pair of keen brown 
 eyes that could be gentle as well as piercing. 
 " Argyle ! Where did you come from ? " 
 Rob whirled about, held out his hand. 
 "Jack," he said simply; "I've come for you. 
 My father is waiting to see you in Quebec." 
 And, a little later, they went away together.
 
 358 JANET: HKii WINTER 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 " TANET," Mrs. Argyle said, a few days later; 
 tJ "I have decided that I want to borrow you 
 for a month." 
 
 Janet looked up from the handkerchiefs she was 
 marking with an R. L. and many tears. 
 
 " Borrow me ? " 
 
 " Yes." Mrs. Argyle smiled at the absolute 
 wonderment in the girl's tone. * May I ? " 
 
 " Of course. Anything I have," Janet assented 
 readily, for Mrs. Argyle was not only herself, but 
 she was also Rob's mother and, to Janet, that was 
 coming to count for a good deal. 
 
 " I want just you, yourself, dear." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " To take you home with me to spend a month." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Argyle ! " For a moment, Janet held 
 her breath, speechless. u Spend a month, a whole 
 great, long month in New York, with you and Day 
 and Rob ! How I wish, wish, wish I could ! " 
 
 "Why can't you?" Mrs. Argyle asked lightly, 
 for, only the night before, she had had a long talk 
 with Mrs. Leslie.
 
 IN QUEBEC 359 
 
 But already Janet's shoulders had fallen to- 
 gether, with her ebbing breath. 
 
 " I just can't," she said flatly. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " I can't leave my mother." 
 
 "Not if she is willing?" 
 
 " She won't be." 
 
 " But she is. I asked her, first." 
 
 For an instant, the light blazed up again in 
 Janet's eyes. Then the light was quenched. 
 
 " Mrs. Argyle," she said steadily ; " her saying 
 she is willing does n't make a bit of difference. 
 I know, 'way down inside herself, she 'd hate to 
 have me go." 
 
 " No, dear ; I think she really is quite willing," 
 Mrs. Argyle urged. " We talked it all over to- 
 gether: how you had never had a real journey, how 
 much new there would be for you to see and learn, 
 how much good it would do you." 
 
 Janet lifted her head proudly. 
 
 " Yes," she said ; " and did you talk over what 
 my mother would do without me ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Waters is coming here to board, you 
 know, as soon as she can have my room," Mrs. 
 Argyle reminded her. 
 
 But Janet interrupted her impatiently. 
 
 " Yes, and would Mrs. Waters cuddle her, and 
 talk to her in the twilight, when she gets lonesome
 
 360 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 waiting for Ronald to come in to supper ? And 
 would Mrs. Waters talk over Ronald's letters with 
 her, and plan what we 'd write back again ? " 
 
 " But only for a month, Janet. And we all want 
 you so. Rob and I planned it together, and Day 
 is as eager for it as we are. Rob is writing to 
 Sidney about it now. And a month is such a little 
 bit of a time." 
 
 However, Janet's head had drooped again ; the 
 fire had left her eager young voice, and now the 
 words dragged a little. 
 
 " Mrs. Argyle," she said slowly ; " it is lovely of 
 you to ask me, lovelier still of you to want me. I 
 only wish I could go ; it would be just like going 
 into heaven, the journey, and the visit, and the 
 seeing New York and all the rest of it. If I were 
 a little bit of a girl, 1 should just sit down and cry 
 for it all ; but, even then, I am not sure I should 
 
 go." 
 
 " But I can't see why you should n't." Mrs. 
 Argyle spoke thoughtfully, her eyes on Janet's 
 face, while her thoughts went over and over her 
 talk with Mrs. Leslie. " I truly think your mother 
 believes it would be the best thing in the world for 
 you." 
 
 Again Janet raised her head. 
 
 "Best for me, of course; but what about its 
 Iteing best for her ?" she asked stubbornly. Then
 
 IN QUEBEC 361 
 
 once more her tone changed. "Mrs. Argyle, please 
 don't think I don't want to go," she begged ; 
 " please don't think I don't appreciate your asking 
 me. I love it all, love it ever so much more than 
 you will ever know. But I promised Ronald I 
 would take care of mother." 
 
 " I know, dear child ; but " 
 
 Janet shook her head. 
 
 " I should n't be keeping my promise, if I went 
 off to have a good time, just as soon as Ronald's 
 back was turned. Mrs. Argyle, when I was a little, 
 little mussy baby, my mother had to give up things 
 and stay at home with me. It 's my turn, now ; 
 and I ought to be glad to do it." She looked up 
 bravely ; then the bravery ended in a sudden wave 
 of girlish disappointment. " But I 'm not glad a 
 bit. I want to go, want it more than I ever wanted 
 anything else in all my life." 
 
 And Mrs. Argyle answered slowly, while she 
 patted the brown head which all at once had come 
 against her shoulder, 
 
 " Janet dear, I wish you could. And yet, I think 
 perhaps you are right." 
 
 Once more Janet raised her head and spoke 
 rapidly. 
 
 " It is right, I know. I wish it weren't ; but it 's 
 no use. I should n't be happy for one single 
 moment. All the time I was doing things and
 
 362 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 seeing things, I should keep thinking of my mother 
 here alone, with my father dead, and Ronald away, 
 and me running off to leave her as soon as ever 
 I could. You know how I'd love it, if things wrre 
 only different. Day is a dear, and, next to Ronald, 
 I like Rob best of all the boys I 've ever known. 
 And I never went on a journey over night, nor saw 
 the United States. It is going to be so lonesome, 
 too, with Ronald gone and you all going." Sud- 
 denly she lifted her head, which had fallen back 
 into its old place. " Mrs. Argyle," she asked, and 
 her voice was sharp with anxiety ; " does Ronald 
 know ? " 
 
 " I 'm not sure, dear. I think not, though. He 
 was at the Chateau with Sir George, all last 
 night." 
 
 " He must n't be told at all," Janet said reso- 
 lutely, as she rose from the arm of Mrs. Argyle's 
 chair and crossed the room to the window. 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 For a long moment, Janet's gaze rested on a 
 knot of soldiers coming down from the Citadel. 
 The sunlight, striking on their scarlet coats, 
 brought them out in bold relief against the gray 
 old wall beyond. The vivid bit of colour, their 
 laughing faces and their swift, alert tread, all 
 seemed to throw into stronger contrast the shadow 
 of disappointment which lay upon the girl within.
 
 IN QUEBEC 363 
 
 Then, facing about, she answered Mrs. Argyle's 
 question with a voice she strove in vain to keep 
 level. 
 
 " Because it would tangle all his plans and make 
 him worry. He was determined he'd not go, Mrs. 
 Argyle ; he was going to give it up, all the money 
 and the fun and all, for mother and for me. He 
 only said he 'd go, when I promised I would see to 
 mother and keep her from missing him too much. 
 Mrs. Argyle," her voice grew firm once more ; " I 
 love you all ; you know I do, even if I have had 
 queer ways of showing it sometimes. But my 
 mother and Ronald stand first. They would give 
 up anything in this world for me. It would be a 
 shame to me, if I would n't give up this one thing 
 for them." 
 
 And Mrs. Argyle, watching the sad, resolute 
 young face, told herself that Janet was right. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was mourning and lamenta- 
 tion among the younger Argyles, when Janet's 
 decision was made known ; and only Janet's eager 
 pleading held Day back from making a final appeal 
 to Ronald. Quite unexpectedly, however, Mr. Ar- 
 gyle took his stand upon the side of Janet. 
 
 " I like your pluck, my dear, " he said to her, one 
 night. " I think you are in the right of it ; it 's no 
 time to leave your mother, when she 's in her first 
 woe over Ronald's going. Wait a few months, and
 
 304 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 then we '11 have a visit from you both. Just now, 
 your place is here." 
 
 And, meanwhile, the hours were ebbing fast, and 
 the day was at hand when Sir George Porteous was 
 to sail for home and take Ronald Leslie with him. 
 It was an early spring, that year. Already the ice 
 had left the river below Quebec ; already the ocean 
 liners were coming in and out. Sir George had been 
 waiting for the opening of the river ; his one expe- 
 rience of American railways had led him to shun 
 the journey to Halifax by rail. Rather than that, 
 he would have delayed until the end of summer the 
 returning to his home and his new'duties. In fact, 
 now that Sir George had arrayed himself in mourn- 
 ing garments and taken to himself a secretary, he 
 appeared to feel that his whole duty was done ; 
 and it was only in response to a vigorous prodding 
 from his lawyers in England that he had aroused 
 himself to the point of booking his passage homo. 
 At length, however, the final morning came, and 
 Sir George, hat in hand, sat on his bed and lan- 
 guidly surveyed his heap of luggage. 
 
 " Oh, I say, you've been very good to me," he 
 observed to Mrs. Leslie, as she straightened up her 
 bent and aching back. " A fellow has so many 
 things, you know. If it had n't been for you and 
 Leslie, they 'd have been in shocking heaps." 
 
 Sir George spoke truthfully. He had spent all
 
 IN QUEBEC 365 
 
 of Thursday and most of Friday morning in alter- 
 nately putting up his glass to stare at his posses- 
 sions, then in resting his head against the back of 
 his chair and closing his puzzled eyes. On Wed- 
 nesday night, Sir George had gone so far as to 
 order his various boxes and bags brought to his 
 room. When he went up from dinner, they stood 
 awaiting him in serried rank. 
 
 " By George ! " Sir George remarked to himself, 
 as he beheld them. " I 'd best begin my packing." 
 
 For the next half-hour, he worked diligently, so 
 diligently that his bureau drawers and his two 
 wardrobes yawned at him emptily, their former 
 contents strewn on couch and table and across the 
 open trunks. Then Sir George turned weary, and 
 betook himself to bed. Once after that, he went 
 so far as to gather up his neckties and hang them, 
 sorted by colours, across the footboard of his bed. 
 Otherwise, nothing had been moved when, late on 
 Friday morning, Ronald had come into the room. 
 Two hours later, Mrs. Leslie was assisting her son 
 to pack the raiment of Sir George Porteous. 
 
 The steamer was to sail, early that Saturday 
 afternoon ; and the noonday sun was still warm 
 over the city when two carriages drove away from 
 the door of the Leslie home. The first one held 
 the four Argyles, for Mrs. Argyle had realized that 
 no alien eyes should look on Ronald's parting from
 
 JANET: lll'.ll WINTER 
 
 the old home where all his childhood had been 
 spent. Accordingly, they had hurried through the 
 mid-day dinner, and taken a long drive out the 
 Sainte Foy Road before they turned and went 
 down Palace Hill. The streets of Lower Town 
 were deep in mud, as the horses plashed their way 
 eastward and came out upon the pier, where the 
 great steamer was puffing lazily and straining at 
 her moorings with the ebbing of the tide. 
 
 Sir George Porteous was there before them, 
 three brown-clad porters by his side, while the in- 
 spector toiled his weary way through the vast pile 
 of luggage. All at once, Sir George lifted his 
 voice in shrill remonstrance. 
 
 "Oh, I say, be careful ; can't you ? All my 
 trousers are in there, you know. Don't root about 
 like that ! " Then, turning, he saw Day and rose 
 to his feet " I thought you 'd come," he said. 
 " It 's like the old times, you know, when you 
 always used to be about. I '11 miss you, when I 
 get to England. You 're not like our girls, you 
 know." 
 
 Then, with a cursory nod at Rob, he turned once 
 more and grasped Mrs. Argyle's hands. 
 
 " You 've been so good to me," he said simply. 
 " A fellow does get lonely, and you Ve tried to put 
 it right." 
 
 But Day had whirled about, for Ronald's voice
 
 IN QUEBEC 367 
 
 was iu her ears ; and, all at once, it seemed to her 
 that the great black steamer, puffing and straining 
 at her moorings, had blotted out for her the sky 
 and sun. 
 
 " Ronald," she said bravely, though with a queer 
 little catch in her voice ; " I told you I 'd be glad, 
 gladder than any of your other friends. I am glad, 
 too, only " 
 
 And Ronald understood. 
 
 Then the moments dragged on slowly, with 
 forced talk and frequent pauses, till at last the 
 signal came and the many groups parted into two, 
 one for the sea and one for shore. The last rope 
 plashed overboard, the great vessel shivered, moved, 
 and there came a narrow thread of open water be- 
 tween the shipside and the pier. Then, for an in- 
 stant, Mrs. Leslie hid her face ; but Janet, scarlet, 
 dry-eyed, waved a brave farewell. 
 
 Far towards the stern, Sir George and Ronald 
 leaned upon the rail. Ronald's eyes were eagerly 
 racing to and fro across the little group of familiar 
 faces ; but Sir George, his jaw sagging and his 
 eyeglass in his hand, surveyed them with a calm 
 regret. Suddenly Day, standing on the very edge 
 of the pier, lifted her hand for silence. Clear and 
 distinct across the water, in all its languid cadence 
 there floated back to them the voice of Sir George 
 Porteous.
 
 368 JANET: HER WINTER 
 
 " Oh, I say," he was observing mournfully ; 
 "really, it's a brute of a thing to bid your friends 
 good-by." 
 
 As the group on shore turned back to the 
 waiting carriages, Rob stepped to his father's 
 side. 
 
 "Take Mrs. Leslie in my place," he said. 
 "Janet and I will walk up together." 
 
 Nevertheless, before they did walk up together, 
 they lingered long upon the pier. Slowly the crowd 
 about them dwindled away, until the place was 
 wellnigh deserted. Slowly the sun dropped behind 
 the gray old city on the cliff. Slowly the Levis 
 heights across the river dyed themselves with the 
 rosy purple which heralds the sunset gold to come. 
 Down and away from before their feet, the great 
 river flowed on in silent majesty, bearing the 
 steamer from their sight. Already she was dwind- 
 ling to a toy-like shape, far down the southern 
 channel. Janet stared after it with dreary eyes. 
 The scarlet had left her cheeks, her lashes drooped 
 heavily and her chin had lost its resolution. For 
 the hour, her bright courage had left her ; and it 
 was a piteous face which she turned to Rob, in 
 answer to his touch upon her arm. 
 
 " Just let me make my wail," she begged him, 
 humbly as a little child might have done. " Mummy 
 must n't see me cry ; I promised Ronald I 'd be
 
 IN QUEBEC 369 
 
 brave. But " with a swift, tragical gesture 
 at the banner of snioke which hung in the sky 
 above a far-off point of land, she added ; " but that 
 steamer is carrying off my Ronald, and I just can't 
 live without him." 
 
 Furtively Rob rubbed the back of his hand across 
 his eyes ; still more furtively he rubbed the back 
 of his hand across the side of his coat. 
 
 " Don't mind, Janet," he said then. " You '11 
 feel better, when you've cried it out." 
 
 But she shook her head. 
 
 " Crying never helps ; it only gives one headache 
 and a swollen nose," she said, with brave practi- 
 cality. " Talk to me, Rob, and make me forget 
 things." 
 
 And, with Rob's assenting gesture, they turned 
 away, came off from the pier and followed the 
 muddy pavements back to Dambourges Hill. At 
 the top of the hill, Rob halted irresolutely ; then he 
 led the way out to the edge of the bastion. For a 
 long moment, they stood there silent, leaning on 
 the rail and staring out across the flats at the dis- 
 tant ring of dark blue mountains which shuts 
 in the changing picture in its mighty, changeless 
 frame. Then slowly, gravely Rob turned about 
 and laid his hand on Janet's which rested, tightly 
 shut, upon the black muzzle of one of the ancient 
 
 guns. 
 
 24
 
 370 JANET: HER WINTER IN QUEBEC 
 
 " Janet," he said ; " I 'm going away, next week. 
 I hope you 're sorry." 
 
 Instantly her face changed. In her sorrow for 
 Ronald, she had forgotten this other parting, now 
 so near at hand. 
 
 " I am," she said ; but the words were scarcely 
 audible. 
 
 " We 've had some good times together," Rob 
 went on ; " likewise some rows." He smiled a 
 little, as he spoke. Then he added, " But, after 
 all, I think we 're the best kind of friends. It has 
 been fun, our being here ; some day, we '11 all get 
 together again. 1 'm sorry you can't come home 
 with us ; but I honestly do agree with Dad : your 
 place is here." 
 
 He had been speaking with slow thoughtfulness, 
 and now he allowed the silence to drop over his 
 last words, while his blue eyes fell from Janet to 
 the river at his feet. Then suddenly he turned 
 back to face her, and gave her hand a steady, 
 hearty grip. 
 
 " Janet," he said ; " you 're a good little soul, 
 and a plucky. I 'm glad I 've known you, and I 'm 
 sure we '11 keep on being friends." 
 
 And, hand in hand, they faced about and van- 
 ished around the angle of the Ramparts. 
 
 THE END.
 
 Miss Ray's New Story for Girls 
 
 SIDNEY: HER SUMMER 
 ON THE ST. LAWRENCE 
 
 By ANNA CHAPIN RAY 
 
 Author of the " Teddy" books, "Janet: Her Winter 
 at Quebec," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. 12rao. Decorated 
 Cloth. $1.50 
 
 Sidney Straves is another of this author's true, helpful, 
 earnest girl characters. Denver Republican. 
 
 The young heroine is a forceful little maiden of sweet 
 sixteen. The descriptions of picnics in the pretty Canadian 
 country are very gay and enticing, and Sidney and her 
 friends are a merry group of wholesome young people. 
 The Churchman, New York. 
 
 Sidney is a very happy, wholesome girl with a bit of a 
 temper to make her human. New York Sun. 
 
 A book with lots of common sense and thought, but not 
 a bit " preachy." The characters are frank, open, and sen- 
 sible, and the author knows girls and boys and has real 
 sympathy with them. Boston Journal. 
 
 Her books are always natural and sane, with plenty of 
 action, humor, and sentiment of the right kind. Provi- 
 dence Journal. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON
 
 Miss Ray's work draws instant comparison with the best of Miss Alcott's: first, 
 because she has the same genuine sympathy with boy and girl life ; secondly, 
 because she creates real characters, individual and natural, like the young people 
 one knows, actually working out the same kind of problems ; and, finally, because 
 her style of writing is equally unaffected and straightforward. Christian Register, 
 Boston. 
 
 TEDDY: HER BOOK. A Story of Sweet Sixteen 
 Illustrated by Vesper L. George. 12010. $1.50. 
 
 This bewitching story of " Sweet Sixteen," with its earnestness, impetuosity, 
 merry pranks, and unconscious love for her hero, has the same spring-like charm. 
 Kate Sanborn. 
 
 PHEBE: HER PROFESSION. A Sequel to "Teddy: 
 
 Her Book" 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 This is one of the few books written for young people in which there is to be 
 found the same vigor and grace that one demands in a good story for older people. 
 Worcester Spy. 
 
 TEDDY: HER DAUGHTER 
 
 A Sequel to "Teddy: Her Book," and " Phebe : Her Profession" 
 
 Illustrated by J. B. Graff. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 It is a human story, all the characters breathing life and activity. Buffalo Times. 
 
 NATHALIE'S CHUM 
 
 Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 Nathalie is the sort of a young girl whom other girls like to read about. Hartford 
 
 Courant. 
 
 URSULA'S FRESHMAN. A Sequel to "Nathalie's Chum" 
 Illustrated by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. I2mo. $1.50. 
 The best of a series already the best of its kind. Boston Herald. 
 
 NATHALIE'S SISTER. A ^fl" el t0 " Ursula>s Fresh " 
 Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. 121110. $1.50. 
 
 Peggy, the heroine, is a most original little lady who says and does aH sorts of 
 interesting things. She has pluck and spirit, and a temper, but she is very lovable, 
 and girls will find h< r delightful to read about. Louisville Evening Post. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, fc? COMPANY, Publishers 
 254 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
 
 HELEN LEAH REED'S 
 
 "BRENDA" BOOKS 
 
 BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB 
 
 Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. i2mo. $1.50. 
 
 The Boston Herald says : " Miss Reed's girls have all the impulses and likes of 
 real girls as their characters are developing, and her record of their thoughts and 
 actions reads like a chapter snatched from the page of life. It is bright, genial, 
 merry, wholesome, and full of good characterizations." 
 
 BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 
 
 Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 A charming picture of vacation life along the famous North Shore of Massachu. 
 
 setts. 
 
 The Outlook says : " The author is one of the best equipped of our writers for 
 
 girls of larger growth. Her stories are strong, intelligent, and wholesome." 
 
 BRENDA'S COUSIN AT RADCLIFFE 
 
 Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 A remarkably real and fascinating story of a college girl's career, excelling n. 
 interest Miss Reed's first " Brenda " book. The Providence News says oi it: 
 " No better college story has been written." The author is a graduate of Radcliffe 
 College which she describes. 
 
 BRENDA'S BARGAIN 
 
 Illustrated, izmo. $1.50. 
 
 "The fourth and last of the 'Brenda' books," says The Bookman, "deals with 
 social settlement work, under conditions with which the author is familiar." The 
 Boston Transcript adds : " This book is by far the best of the series." 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, fc? COMPANY, Publishers 
 254 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
 
 New Illustrated Editions of 
 Miss Alcott's Famous Stories 
 
 THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES 
 
 BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT. Illustrated Edition. With eighty-four 
 full-page plates from drawings especially made for this edition by 
 Reginald B. Birch, Alice Barber Stephens, Jessie Willcox Smith, 
 and Harriet Roosevelt Richards. Svols. Crown 8vo. Decorated 
 cloth, gilt, in box, $16.00. 
 
 Separately as follows : 
 
 1. LITTLE MEN : Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys 
 
 With 15 full-page illustrations by Reginald B. Birch. $2.00. 
 
 2. LITTLE WOMEN : or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy 
 
 With 15 full-page illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00. 
 
 3. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL 
 
 With 12 full page pictures by Jessie Willcox Smith. $2.00. 
 
 4. JO'S BOYS, and How They Turned Out 
 
 A Sequel to " Little Men." With 10 full-page plates by Ellen Wetherakl 
 Ahrens. $2.00. 
 
 5. EIGHT COUSINS; or, the Aunt Hill 
 
 With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 
 
 6. ROSE IN BLOOM 
 
 A Sequel to " Eight Cousins." With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet 
 Roosevelt Richards. $2.00. 
 
 7. UNDER THE LILACS 
 
 With 8 original full-page pictures by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00. 
 
 8. JACK AND JILL 
 
 With 8 full-page pictures from drawings by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 
 $2.00. 
 
 The artists selected to illustrate have caught the spirit of the originals and contributed a 
 
 series of strikingly beautiful and faithful pictures of the author's Character! and scenes. 
 
 Boston Herald. 
 
 Alice Barber Stephens, who is very near the head of American illustrators, has shown 
 
 wonderful ability in delineating the characters and costumes for "Little Women." They are 
 
 almost startlingly realistic. Worcester Spy. 
 
 Miss Alcott's books have never before had such an attractive typographical dress as the 
 
 present. They are printed in large tvp* on heavy paper, artistically bound, and illustrated 
 
 with many full-page drawings. Philadelphia Press. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, Gf COMPANY 
 
 Publishers, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
 
 A 000129404