"No one will come as early as this," she thought, plaintively.

But hardly had she finished her simple meal, when the sound of sleigh
bells reached her ears, and running to the window she saw that Ussher and
Hickson in a two horse sleigh were driving down the slope.

A moment later they were in the kitchen. And after the minimum time had
elapsed during which all three talked at once recounting their own
individual anxieties, Ussher asked:

"Where's Max?"

Christine cast down her eyes with a sort of Paul-and-Virginia expression,
as she answered: "Oh, he is sleeping in the tool-house!"

"Well, I call that damned nonsense," said Ussher. "Let a man freeze to
death! Upon my word, Christine, I thought you had more sense." And he
strode away to the back door. "Yes, here are his tracks, poor fellow."
Ussher went out after him, and Hickson turned back.

"But _you_ think I was right, don't you, Edward?" said Christine, for she
had never failed to elicit commendation from Edward.

But now his brow was dark. "But, I say, Christine," he said, "there's one
thing I don't understand. These tracks of his footsteps in the snow."

"He didn't fly, Ned, even if he is an aviator."

"Yes, but it didn't stop snowing until four o'clock this morning."