Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

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But rheumatism had laid its torturing clutches on poor old Dinah's limbs,
and she could not be expected to get through the same amount of work that
Biddy accomplished, so the help of the twins was frequently necessary to
keep agoing the domestic machinery.

This was no hardship to Dexie; but Gussie, oh dear! it was just horrible to
have to wash up the breakfast dishes, and to polish the silver. And the
rooms _never_ needed to be dusted so often before, that she was sure! and
wherever the dusters went to after she was done with them was a daily
mystery. Dexie offered to solve this trying enigma, but Gussie's wrath
waxed hot when she read the words which Dexie printed in large letters on a
piece of wrapping-paper and stuck on the wall, for the moral was obvious--

"_There is a place for everything_; THEREFORE, _put the dusters
back in their own place when you are done with them, and you will be sure
to find them again._

"(NO CHARGE FOR THIS ADVICE.)"

But things moved along somehow, as they always do, yet everyone was glad
when the new Biddy appeared, who answered to the name of Nancy, and the
ways of the household fell back into former grooves; while the sigh of
relief which Gussie gave as she took up her neglected fancywork again,
might have been heard--well, quite a distance away.

As the weeks went by, the enforced idleness became irksome to Mr. Sherwood;
and having at one time been on the staff of a leading newspaper, he took up
his pen again--or rather Dexie did, as his amanuensis--while he brought
forth from memories' halls, things interesting, amusing or instructive. He
had travelled extensively, and always saw the ludicrous side of things, so
he was able to tell many amusing incidents that to others might have passed
as commonplace. His productions were eagerly accepted, and, what is better,
liberally paid for as well.

The short winter days passed very quickly. Time pleasantly spent is sure to
fly fast, and skating and sleighing parties are always merry gatherings;
thus so many evenings were given to Glee Club practice, church socials and
other like entertainments, that an evening at home was a delightful change.
During the winter the Sherwoods had the opportunity of becoming well
acquainted with many of the military fraternity, but Dexie's reserved
manner forbade the least familiarity. They were merely friends of her
friends, and her dislike to the red-coated gentlemen caused her much
good-natured chaffing; but it never annoyed her, for she always had an
answer ready for the keenest shaft. Lancy Gurney could always depend on
having Dexie Sherwood's company when these little pleasure-parties were
made up; and when he brought his sleigh out for a "spin" Elsie and Dexie
were sure to occupy the back seat, and the vacant place by Lancy's side was
never long empty, for the wit and vivacity of his companion made the seat
very desirable.

Hugh McNeil always had a share in the pleasures of the rest of the family,
and no matter how many offered to fill his sleigh he always kept a seat for
Gussie Sherwood, for he had paid her much attention from the first. Gussie
found it very pleasant to have someone to take her here and there, and feed
her vanity with admiring looks and soft speeches; but if Gussie had a
chance to secure another escort more to her mind, she thought nothing of
snubbing Hugh unmercifully, yet was willing enough to smile him back to her
side when no other gentleman offered his company. But few men care to be
made the plaything of a young girl's caprice, and there came a time when
Gussie's smile lost its power to charm. Her pretty face had been the
attraction; but having ample opportunity of seeing Gussie under the
different light of home-life, he could not help seeing the shallow nature
that lay behind her outward sweetness, or that this sweetness was more
ready to come to the front when self was to be gratified.

But Hugh's heart had been touched for the first time, and when his eyes
were opened he was loth to displace his idol, even though he knew that
common clay was its substance. For a long time he gave no sign of the
change that had taken place in his feelings; he was to all appearances as
devoted to Gussie as ever.

One day, along the first of March, Lancy Gurney walked hastily home from
the store, and entering the Sherwood household, inquired for Dexie.

"What is it, Lancy?" said Dexie, peeping over the stair rail at Lancy in
the hall below.

"Come down, Dexie; I want to speak to you. Can you come for a drive with
me?" he asked, as Dexie reached his side. "Father wishes me to do a little
business for him a few miles out of town, and I want company. Will you
come?"

"Yes, if you will take Elsie as well," was the reply. "How soon are you
going, Lancy?"

"In about half an hour, if we can get ready; but I don't want to take
Elsie. We will take the single sleigh, and three in a seat will not be
comfortable."

"It will be three in a seat or one, Sir Launcelot; so take your choice. Run
in and see if Elsie can go, then I will get ready also. No use coaxing;
your half an hour is rapidly passing," she added, smilingly, as Lancy
lingered, endeavoring to change her decision.

But "three in a seat" was not so uncomfortable as Lancy had imagined, and
they were soon speeding over the road, and in due time reached their
destination.

They were detained much longer than they expected, and so were late
starting for home, and the snow which had been falling in fine, light
particles, soon increased in volume, and it was quite apparent that a
severe storm was upon them.

When they reached the open road, they found they were to suffer for the
delay, for the sharp wind cut their faces and almost blinded them with the
drifting snow.

All landmarks were soon obliterated, and, though the way was familiar under
different circumstances, Lancy found it hard to distinguish the road from
the open field, as the snow fell so thick they could see only a short
distance beyond the horse's head.

The girls were soon so benumbed with cold that they were glad to creep
beneath the sleigh robes, and the roads were becoming so blocked with
drifts that their progress was very slow indeed. Several times they stuck
fast, and Lancy had to get out and tramp down the snow, while, with
encouraging words, he urged the horse along; but in one of these heavy
drifts, snap! went the shaft.

This was a misfortune indeed, for a thorough search in pockets and
sleigh-box failed to produce a string or strap of any kind.

Elsie had been on the verge of crying for some time, and this new disaster
brought the tears in earnest.

"We shall all freeze to death here!" she sobbed. "Whatever shall we do?"

"You can stop crying, Elsie," said Lancy, who felt bewildered by this new
difficulty. "I am bothered enough already. I suppose it is no use to ask
you girls if you have any kind of string in your pockets," he added.

"No, of course we haven't," replied Elsie, quite cross. "Girls don't fill
their pockets with trash!"

"Here is my belt, Lancy," and Dexie held up a strap of Russian leather. "Do
you think you can bind up the shaft with that?"

After some delay, the shaft was strapped together, and they slowly pressed
onward.

"How far do you think we are from Halifax, Lancy?" Dexie asked, after they
had travelled some distance through the drifts.

"I can hardly say, Dexie, we have come so slowly; but I fear we are not
more than halfway."

This was indeed the truth, and the storm seemed increasing in violence; but
if a thought of danger passed through their minds, no voice was given to
it.

Presently they passed a farmhouse, and they almost decided to stop and ask
shelter; but just here the road seemed better, so they pressed on, knowing
that their absence would make those at home very anxious. For some distance
the road was less drifted, owing to the shelter of a line of trees that
skirted it, but farther on they came to drifts that were high and hard
packed, through which the horse gave a plunge, breaking the other shaft,
and this brought matters to a crisis.

"It is no use, girls; we can't get home to-night. It is a pity we did not
stop at that farmhouse," said Lancy, as he ascertained damages. "We will
have to get back somehow, I'm afraid."

But how to get back was a question. They had passed the farmhouse such a
long time ago that it seemed as if it must be miles behind. Lancy was
almost in despair as he felt the broken shaft. How could they reach the
farmhouse in this disabled condition? Although suffering intensely from
the cold, he thought little of it, but he began to have serious misgivings
as to the safety of the girls.

"I am so sorry I asked either of you to come with me," he said, as he bent
his head to speak to the shivering girls. "I shall have to cut the reins
and tie up the shaft with them, but I fear it will be slow work retracing
our way."

"Oh, Lancy, you can't cut the reins! How are you going to drive if you do
that?" said Dexie, in alarm.

"I can walk and lead the horse. There is nothing else to do."

"Wait, Lancy! Here is my silk scarf; it is real long and strong," and Dexie
forced her cold fingers to untie from under her wraps, the pretty scarf
that encircled her neck, which Lancy found to answer his purpose very well.

The sleigh had become so imbedded in the drift, that Lancy was afraid the
shafts would pull apart if the horse put forth sufficient strength to
extract it, so he decided to take the horse out and turn the sleigh
himself. But when the horse found himself free, he refused to stand still,
and Dexie insisted on getting out to hold him. Leading the horse around the
drift to regain the road, Lancy found there was a level stretch extending
in the same direction, and he concluded to follow it and thus regain the
farmhouse. He assisted Dexie through the drifts, and as she held the reins
he endeavored to turn the sleigh. But he had not quite accomplished his
task when a cry from Dexie came through the storm:

"Oh, Lancy! come quick! I cannot hold him, and I hear water running
somewhere! Oh, the horse is in!"

CHAPTER VI.

What new calamity had overtaken them! Their only hope of safety seemed in
the horse, and he had disappeared from sight, leaving only his head showing
above the white mass around him. Lancy was soon at Dexie's side, and
understood the situation at once. The level stretch of snow was but the
covering of a frozen stream that here flowed parallel with the road. He had
led the horse near a weak spot, and the ice had given away beneath him. The
water might not be deep enough to drown him, but Lancy saw at once it would
be impossible to get the horse out without assistance. He helped Dexie back
to the sleigh, saying,

"You and Elsie must cover yourselves up in the sleigh, and wait here till I
walk back to that house for help."

"Oh, Lancy! is there no other way?" Dexie cried, her courage giving way at
the thought of him leaving them. "You will get lost in the storm, and we
will surely freeze to death before help reaches us."

But there seemed no other way out of the difficulty, and he hurriedly
tucked the robes around them, while he tried to quiet Elsie, who was almost
wild with terror when she learned her brother's intention.

"Hush! Elsie, dear. If I stay with you we shall _all_ freeze. You need not
be afraid. I will surely reach the house and send someone to you if I
cannot come back myself. Don't cry, dear. See how bravely Dexie bears it."

"But you are not her brother," she sobbed; "she has only herself to think
of. Oh, what shall we do if you are lost in the storm! How I wish I had
never come!" and she buried her face in the seat before her.

Lancy's heart ached for both of them. Yet to leave them seemed their only
chance of life, for it grew colder every moment. He must find help soon, or
they would not survive the night. Bending over Elsie, he kissed her
tenderly, saying, "Don't be afraid, Elsie. I will find someone to send to
you before I give up; so don't fret. We'll see mother again, never fear."
And bending over to see that she was well covered with the robes, he
whispered, "Good-bye, Elsie; pray for help," and he kissed her again.

Passing round to the other side of the sleigh, he secured the robes around
Dexie so that the wind could not displace them; then putting his face down
close to hers, said, "I am sorry to have brought you into such danger,
Dexie; but you know I did not mean to. Will you kiss me good-bye?"

Dexie lifted her face at once, her heart strangely stirred by the tone in
which he spoke; but she realized their danger, and this might be, indeed,
good-bye.

"Do not fret about us, Lancy," she said. "Think only of yourself, for I am
so afraid you will be lost in the storm."

"Never fear, Dexie. But remember this, girls: Don't go to sleep; keep
awake, no matter how hard it may be to do so. Get up in the sleigh and jump
and scream rather than run the risk of falling asleep here in the cold.
Remember, now! Good-bye, girls; and may Heaven keep you both safe," and
Lancy disappeared in the storm, leaving a comforting feeling behind him
with his last words.

"Oh, Dexie! do you think we shall ever see Lancy again?" Elsie asked, in a
choking voice. "Just think how they will fret at home if anything happens
to us!"

Dexie could not control her voice just then, so she made no reply.

"I wonder if the poor horse will drown or freeze to death; but perhaps it
is warmer in the water than in the wind," and Elsie's thoughts turned again
to Lancy.

Then they put their arms around each other, and talked in a weary,
desultory way. But it was hard to talk when there was nothing pleasant in
their thoughts, and they were so cold, so very cold.

Presently Elsie's head fell over on Dexie's shoulder, and it aroused Dexie
to a sense of their danger. Was she really falling asleep, and allowing
Elsie to do so as well, after the caution Lancy had given? She lifted
Elsie's head gently, saying, "Sit up, Elsie, dear. I'm afraid you are
getting sleepy, and you must not go to sleep, you know."

"Oh, do--leave me--alone! I'm--so tired."

"But I can't leave you, Elsie; you are getting sleepy, and don't you
remember what Lancy said?" and Dexie lifted her up and gave her a gentle
shake.

"Oh, do stop--just a moment."

"No, not a moment!"

Dexie was fully aroused now, and realized Elsie's danger.

"Come, Elsie, you must sit up, for I do not intend to let you sleep;" and
she shook her roughly in her alarm, for Elsie had laid her head on the
seat, in spite of all her efforts to arouse her.

"Here, if you don't lift up your head and wake up, I'll have to rub your
face with snow; so sit up at once. Oh! do, Elsie, dear."

Elsie allowed herself to be lifted into another position, but she seemed
dazed, and Dexie was thoroughly frightened and shook her by the arm, as she
cried, "Oh, Elsie, can't you hear me? Don't you know that if you fall
asleep you will surely freeze to death?"

"Oh, Dexie, I'm freezing now," was the low reply.

Dexie seized her hands and clapped them between her own stiff angers, which
felt like lead, they seemed so heavy, but she succeeded in rousing Elsie so
that she would talk to her.

"Let us try to sing," said Dexie at last; "perhaps it will be easier than
talking," and she began "Jesus, lover of my soul."

But before the verse was finished she became aware that she was scarcely
murmuring the words herself, while Elsie had stopped altogether.

"I'm _not_ going to sleep; so, there!" she said aloud. "I _will_ stay awake
somehow, and make Elsie, too."

She found that the effort she had made to speak aloud had aroused herself.
The drowsy feeling was dispelled, and she bent over Elsie and shook her
until she received a faint answer.

"Do you think Lancy has arrived at the house, Elsie?" she asked a few
minutes later. No answer, for Elsie's head had fallen back on the seat. She
was oblivious to all remarks.

"Dear me, this will never do! However shall I keep her awake more than a
minute at a time? What if Lancy returns and finds her stiff and cold?"

The thought was awful, and for the next few minutes there were some lively
movements under the sleigh robes; but the terror that filled Dexie's heart
gave way to a feeling of relief as Elsie sat up and reproached her friend
for being "so rough."

"But I shall _have_ to use you roughly, Elsie, if you don't stay awake,"
Dexie answered, as she placed the robes around her; "so keep talking, then
I'll be sure of you."

But the intense cold seemed to freeze the words on her lips, and soon an
unintelligible murmur was the only answer to Dexie's questions.

"What shall I do? She will be asleep in another minute, if I don't look
out. If I could only get her cross she would give me less trouble."

As a general thing Elsie was very easy-going, though she had quite a temper
when once it was aroused, but with the excellent training she received from
her mother, she seldom lost control of herself. When she did, she was cross
clear through, and it took her a long time to get over it. Dexie thought
that this was a time when a burst of temper might be justifiable; so she
determined to pick a quarrel with her, and hoped the end would justify the
means.

Shaking her roughly to gain her attention, a few sarcastic remarks soon
started a wordy warfare, and sharp words went back and forth for some time.
Presently their situation occurred to Elsie, and she burst into tears of
repentance.

"Oh, do forgive me, Dexie; to think I would say such things while we are in
such danger! I do not know what is the matter with me."

"It is my fault," cried Dexie, unable to keep up the quarrel under such
contrite circumstances. "I have been provoking you on purpose to make you
scold me; but I didn't mean a word of the unkind things I said to you. I
only wanted to keep you awake;" and thus confessing to one another, they
calmed down into a state that was almost too angelic for safety, but
before they had time to drop asleep again shouts were heard in the
distance, telling of relief close at hand.

CHAPTER VII.

Lancy had a hard struggle to break through the drifts, and began to fear he
would sink down with exhaustion before he had secured help, but he reached
the farmhouse at last, having walked back much faster than the horse had
travelled in going the same distance.

A few words of explanation were enough to arouse the family, and even while
Lancy spoke, the two men in the room began to pull on their boots and get
into their outer garments in a way that showed that they "meant business."

Mr. Taylor and his big son would gladly have gone alone to rescue the
girls, thinking Lancy was not in a fit state to return, but the possible
fate of those dear to him filled Lancy with dread; he must return and see
to their safety. He eagerly drank the hot mixture that Mrs. Taylor placed
in his hand, and when the men declared themselves ready, he felt able to
accompany them.

"This is a terrible night to be out-of-doors," said Mr. Taylor, as he
pulled his coat collar around his ears. "This is the worst storm we have
had for years, and it will be a mercy if your sisters are not badly
frost-bitten, before we can get them to the house. Push on after Tom, and I
will be with you in a minute," and he turned toward the stables.

Lancy found it easier to retrace his steps than when he struggled alone
through the blinding snow, and presently Mr. Taylor passed them on the back
of a horse, carrying a coil of rope and a bundle of rugs, and he was the
first to reach the snow-covered sleigh.

"Are you all right?" he called in a cheery voice.

"We are alive, and that's about all," Dexie answered.

"Well, cheer up; your brother is just behind," and as he spoke Lancy joined
him.

"Now, young man," said Mr. Taylor, "Tom and I will see after your horse,
while you pilot your sisters to the house. They can both ride back on my
horse; he will carry them through the drifts better than they can walk.
Here are some rugs. Now, shall I help you to mount?" turning to Dexie.

"We are so cold I fear we can't hold on," she replied, her teeth chattering
an accompaniment to her words. "I feel as if I had no feet at all," she
added, as they lifted her up and brushed the snow from her garments.

"Oh, Lancy! I can't ride a horse," said Elsie, who was being brushed and
rubbed back to life. "I never could sit on a rocking-horse itself. I'll be
sure to fall."

"Well, you won't have far to fall, so let that comfort you," said Dexie,
who was settling herself to her unusual position. "Lift her up, Lancy.
There! now hold on tight, Elsie, for if you fall off we can't stop to dig
for you!" and the awkward riders moved slowly through the drifts, while Mr.
Taylor and his son disappeared down the bank, and very soon their shouts
told that the submerged horse was rescued.

The poor animal was thoroughly chilled, but warm rugs were spread over him,
and when, in the shelter of the stable, he was rubbed and doctored, he
seemed none the worse for his cold bath. Meanwhile, the women in the
house--good Samaritans, if ever there were any--had everything prepared for
the comfort of the travellers. Rousing fires were blazing in different
rooms, and garments were being warmed before them, while a steaming kettle,
containing some stimulating beverage, was waiting on the hearth. When the
half-frozen girls entered the house they received a warm welcome--warm in
more than one sense of the word, for the quick-handed women soon divested
them of their wearing apparel and placed warm garments upon them--and
before they had time to realize the change, they found themselves seated
before the fire, wrapped in warm blankets, sipping hot negus, a delicious
sense of warmth seeming to pervade their whole being; but as Dexie
possessed the most vitality she was the first to respond to the efforts put
forth for their relief.

Elsie did not rally so quickly. Her teeth chattered and her limbs trembled
long after she thought she was well warmed, but her heart was full of
gratitude as she said:

"I did not know there were such good, kind people in the world. It was
almost worth while to be caught in the storm to be treated so well by
strangers."

And Dexie, from the folds of her blanket, turned her large dark eyes on the
women who were kneeling beside them rubbing their feet, and said in a low
voice:

"We could not expect our best friends to treat us more kindly. Everything
seemed prepared for our comfort before you ever saw us. I'm sure I can't
think of one more thing that could be done for us."

"But there is one more thing to be done, my dears," and Mrs. Taylor smiled
kindly into their young faces. "We must put you to bed."

"Oh, dear! I feel too comfortable to move," and Dexie leaned back in her
big chair with a sigh of content.

"Well, it _is_ a pity to disturb you, but to bed you must go," and, much to
Dixie's surprise, a pair of strong arms lifted her as if she were a child,
and a moment later she found herself in the next room, where a comfortable
bed received her.

"How do you like being a baby again, Elsie?" she laughingly asked, as Elsie
was placed beside her.

"I think I rather like it, but we have made trouble enough for these good
women without letting them carry us to bed. How is it that you can be so
good to strangers?" and Elsie lifted her eyes to the motherly face.

"My dear! have you never read the words, 'I was a stranger, and ye took Me
in.' You know there is such a thing as entertaining angels unawares."

"I thought you were that kind of people," Elsie whispered, as Mrs. Taylor
bent to kiss her cheek.

"Did you, dear? Then I need not remind you that your thanks are due
elsewhere, for I am sure you both have grateful hearts to-night."

"Will you please tell us how Lancy is before you go? We have not heard his
voice since we came in," said Dexie.

"To be sure! but you need not be anxious about him. Your brother is in the
kitchen, snug and warm, by this time. I must go and put him to bed; but I
don't think I shall offer to carry him there," and she laughed softly,
adding, as she reached the door. "Do not get up in the morning till I give
you leave. You cannot get home until the roads are broken; so stay in bed
till the house is well warmed. Good-night, my dears."

There was an interval of silence; then Elsie said softly, "I wonder if our
mothers will be frightened because we are not home. I am afraid mother
would cry if she knew we were out in the storm to-night."

"Oh! they'll not fret, at least my mother will not. They know that Lancy
will look after us."

"Lancy kissed you to-night, didn't he, Dexie? Do you know I believe he has
fallen in love with you," said Elsie, in a confidential tone.

"Oh, Elsie! how can you say such a thing?" and Dexie blushed in the
darkness. "He kissed you good-bye, and, considering our danger, it was
natural enough to treat me the same; indeed he seems like a brother. Even
the people here think I am your sister."

"Oh! you needn't mind me, Dexie. Our folks all like you and would have no
objections, for I heard mamma tell Cora that she was pleased at Lancy's
choice, and thought you would get on very well together."

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