Glendow Rectory


"Are you cold, lad?"

"No," was the brief reply.

Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure
at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their
feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she
was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead.
It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east
presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did
not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes
sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides.

The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and
gripped the reins more firmly.

"What will Nellie say," he thought, "when she sees the lad? Won't she be
surprised! She's never tired of talking about that rescue on the river."

Dan thoroughly enjoyed the drive as he nestled by the parson's side. It
was very strange to be speeding along in such a luxurious manner, with a
horse travelling like the wind, and a big jolly man holding the reins. He
said nothing, but kept his eye fixed upon Midnight, his admiration
steadily increasing. He would like to own a horse like that, and down in
his heart he determined to have one some day--his very own.