each sleigh having to turn on the spot where their progress was arrested,
a certain number of upsets was inevitable.

"Come, Miss Leigh," said a voice beneath her, "you mustn't stick to the
ship any longer. Why, this is the worst bit of all. You can't jump; trust
to me." And to Jack's indignation, Bertie lifted her from the wheel and
carried her through some deep snow to a dry place. There was a certain
amount of excuse for it, as he couldn't have deposited her in the drift,
and turning the tandem took up its owner's whole attention, and the
services of three or four volunteers; but he fancied Du Meresq had
squeezed the little hand before he relinquished it, and ere the tell-tale
blush had passed from Bluebell's face, Jack had turned, jumped out and
replaced her in the tandem with quiet decision.

Bluebell, confused by the powerless way she had been handed about between
her two admirers, could not rally directly, and sat meditating an early
snubbing for Jack, but a ridiculous incident soon distracted her
attention.

"Get out? No, thank you, Captain Du Meresq," cried Lilla Tremaine, a
tall, handsome girl in the sleigh behind; "you'd find me a precious
weight to carry, and I am very comfortable where I am. Turn away, Captain
Delamere, we'll sink or swim together."

Thus urged, the individual called on made his effort; the sleigh turned,
indeed, but on its side, and the adventurous Miss Tremaine, summarily
ejected, sank to her waist in the deep snow, her crinoline rising as she
descended, spread out under her arms, looking like an inverted umbrella.
Jack and Bluebell were suffocating with the laughter they vainly tried to
hide, and Bertie, who was on foot, took in the situation at once, and