safe?"

"No, I don't. Drive on, Billy, but do be careful."

They came to the little village of Westways. At intervals Billy
communicated bits of village gossip. "Susan McKnight, she's going to
marry Finney--"

"Bother Susan," cried Leila. "Be careful."

John alarmed held on to his seat as the sleigh rocked about, while Billy
whipped up the mare.

"This is Westways, our village. It is just a row of houses. Uncle James
won't sell land on our side. Look out, Billy! Our rector lives in that
small house by the church. His name is Mark Rivers. You'll like him.
That's Mr. Grace, the Baptist preacher." She bade him good-day. "Stop,
Billy!"

He pulled up at the sidewalk. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Crocker," she said,
as the postmistress came out to the sleigh. "Please mail this. Any
letters for us?"

"No, Leila." She glanced at the curly locks above the thin face and the
wrapped up form in the shawl. "Got a nice little girl with you, Leila."

John indignant said nothing. "This is a boy--my cousin, John Penhallow,"
returned Leila.

"Law! is that so?"