It was the first trial of the pretty new cutter, and the joyous excitement of the occasion made Betty’s cheeks as red as her scarlet tam-o’-shanter cap, or her red cloth coat with its high fur collar. Betty drew on her driving-gloves, still talking to her mother. “Isn’t it a darling sleigh, Mother? Did you ever see such a pretty one? And Dixie is so proud of it.” “It’s a beauty, Betty. I know you’ll enjoy it. Are you taking Tilly for a ride?” “No; I’m going for May Fordham to-day. We’re planning for the party, you know. I’ll take Tilly some other day.” “Very well; be home by sundown, won’t you?” “Yes; or very soon after. All right, Pete.” The face of the big Irishman beamed with pleasure as he assisted Betty into the new sleigh and tucked the fur robe round her. “’Tis a foine turnout, Miss Betty,” he said; “an’ mosht becomin’ to Dixie,—the proud little baste!” “He is proud of it,” agreed Betty, as she gathered up the lines. “He’s just vain enough to love those silver bells jingling about him. Good-by, Mother.” “Good-by, darling,” said Mrs. McGuire, and after watching Betty disappear down the winding drive, she returned to the house. Denniston Hall, though a beautiful summer place, was equally attractive in winter. Then the wide front veranda was inclosed with glass, and, heated by an arrangement of steam-pipes, made a delightful sun-parlor. The house was of the old-fashioned type that has two front doors opening into two large halls. Large parlors between these halls and a wing on either side, provided numerous rooms, and several of these boasted wide fireplaces where crackling logs blazed gaily or smoldered comfortably, as occasion required. The family at Denniston was a rather unusual one. The place belonged to Betty, the fifteen-year-old daughter, who had recently inherited a large fortune from her Grandfather McGuire. She had supposed herself an orphan, but after buying her home and establishing herself there, she had discovered that her mother was living, and, to their mutual delight, they were at last brought together. Mrs. McGuire had come to Denniston to live with Betty and was more than willing to accept also Betty’s adopted brother, Jack, and the three-year-old baby, Polly. And now, though Mrs. McGuire was nominally head of the household, yet, as the details of housekeeping were looked after by capable Mrs. Kinsey, Betty’s mother had little to do except to enjoy the reunion with her long-lost child. As for Betty, now that her mother was restored to her, there seemed to be no flaw in her happiness, and the merry girl danced gaily through life, like a ray of glad sunshine. Unused to advice or restraint of any sort, she could not at once accustom herself to asking her mother’s permission for anything, but Mrs. McGuire appreciated the unusual circumstances, and wisely concluded to bide her time, and establish their rightful relationship by degrees.