the back seat, well smothered in wolf-skins, and the first sleigh moved
off to the admiration of the school-room party at the window, who, with
the partiality of childhood, thought their papa's the most beautiful
turn-out in the city.

"Mr. Vavasour's horse is up the bank," screamed Fleda. "How much better
papa drives; he went off so quickly and quietly. I wouldn't be Bluebell!
Mr. Vavasour can hardly get out at the gate."

"If papa had to drive one horse before another, perhaps he couldn't
either," said Lola, who had been watching with great interest the erratic
course of Jack's leader.

Twenty sleighs were off in a string, the crowd cheering them to the echo
as they dashed through Queen's Park; but on gaining Carleton Street they
were obliged carefully to keep the track, as the sides of the road were
deep and treacherous.

"The Colonel is making the pace very slow," remarked Mr. Vavasour; "like
to drive, Miss Leigh? they are going very smoothly."

Bluebell, whose knowledge of horses was about equal to her opportunities
of instruction, unhesitatingly assented. Jack's gratification thereat was
somewhat tempered, when he saw the bewilderment apparent in his flighty
pair at the very original manner in which she handled her "lines."

"I suppose," said that young lady, with the composure of ignorance, "we
are all right as long as this bald-face horse keeps its nose pointing at
Captain Delamere's back."