"Maybe." Then abruptly, "Let's talk of something else."

At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.

"It's getting late, Margaret," he said, pausing before her. "I am told
it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
blizzard on us before morning."

"I shouldn't be at all surprised," put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. "The
sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
says, and then hunt out old John."

"Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,"
exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. "If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go."

The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
his face.

"Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh." Then in an
undertone, "You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
_is_ coming on and we must get away at once."

A moment or two later "Lord" Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
smoking-room. On the stairs they met "Poker" John. He was returning to
the ballroom.

"We were just coming to look for you, uncle," exclaimed Jacky. "They