"I thank you so much," said Betty sweetly to Fortescue. "I tended the roses in the greenhouse at Rosehill as long as we lived there. We have no greenhouse here, so we couldn't bring the rosebushes with us. But I always had roses for Christmas." "And I hope you will always have roses for Christmas," replied Fortescue gallantly. Then they sat and talked gaily together as young people do, of dances and hunting and all of the great affairs of youth, the Colonel putting in a word occasionally. Fortescue was lucky enough to be asked to all the Christmas parties. "I should like," he said, "to give a party at Rosehill, but I don't know how. I am only a man, you know. I should wish to do it right, but I am afraid I can't make it quite as it ought to be on short notice. Now, next Christmas, if I can get leave, I will have a party, too. That is, if you, Miss Betty, will help me." The Colonel liked the modesty of this speech, and at once said that Betty would help. Then Betty told the melancholy story of old Whitey's lameness. Fortunately, Sally Carteret, knowing that old Whitey had to be saved for the hunt, had invited Betty to go with her to the party that evening at Red Plains, which was close by. "Do you mean," asked Fortescue, "that you are to miss the hunt?" "I am afraid so," said poor Betty dolefully. "But that isn't to be thought of," cried Fortescue. "I have several horses at Rosehill, and I can give you a mount. Birdseye, that I rode over here, is the gentlest and kindest horse that ever stepped. Although not a regular hunter, she can get along the road and over the fences all right." "Oh!" exclaimed Betty, jumping up, "do let me see her! Granddaddy, may I ride Birdseye to-morrow morning?" The Colonel hesitated a moment. "I should require, my love," he said, "to see Birdseye. Perhaps she has never had a side-saddle on her, or known what a riding-skirt is." "We can try her," suggested Fortescue. Betty ran out into the little hall, and, picking up a red scarf, threw it over her head, calling back to the Colonel: "Don't you dare, Granddaddy, to come out on the porch. You can see from the window." Fortescue was not a foot behind Betty, and they both ran to where Birdseye, dancing to keep herself warm, stood under a great holly tree. From the kitchen window peeped a little round, black face. "We can try Birdseye with that little black boy," said Fortescue. "She wouldn't hurt a baby." Betty beckoned to Kettle, who came out willingly enough, his constitutional grin over-spreading his face. "Run to the stable and get a horse-blanket," said Betty, which Kettle proceeded to do, and returned in a couple of minutes. But Kettle's face suddenly changed when Fortescue, catching him by the shoulder, wrapped the horse-blanket around him as if it were a skirt, and Betty supplied a couple of hair-pins with which to fasten it. Then Fortescue, flinging the boy on Birdseye's back, put the reins in his hand, saying: