"Oh, Dave!" murmured the girl, and blushed. Then she gave him a look that meant a great deal. The sleighing-party was to start off about two o'clock the next afternoon, and did not expect to return to Crumville until well towards midnight. They were to go to the town of Lamont, about seventeen miles away. A new restaurant had been opened in this town, in connection with the hotel, and Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth had stopped there for a meal and had pronounced it excellent, the food being of first-class quality and an orchestra being present to liven matters up. Ben had thought at first that he could not accompany the others, his father having been taken sick; but as Mr. Basswood's illness was not of a serious nature, Mrs. Basswood, knowing how disappointed the youth would be, urged that he go along anyhow. "Your father is resting quite comfortably," she told Ben; "and the doctor says he will be around again inside of a week, so you may as well take in this sleighride while you have the chance." "But there are those miniatures, mother," returned Ben. "Wasn't father going to let Mr. Wadsworth see them?" "Mr. Wadsworth is going to have several art critics at his home in a day or two, and then your father is to let all of them examine the miniatures carefully to see if he can get an idea of what they are worth. But you need not bother your head about that. If Mr. Wadsworth sends word that the critics have arrived at his house I'll take care of the matter." And so this was arranged, and Ben went off to prepare for the sleigh-ride. At the appointed hour, the big sleigh came dashing up to the door of the Wadsworth mansion. All of the young folks, including Ben, were on hand and ready for the trip, each bundled up well for protection against the cold. The sun had been shining in the morning, but towards noon it had gone under a heavy bank of clouds. "Looks a little to me like more snow," observed Dunston Porter, who was present to see them depart. "I shouldn't be surprised to see you coming back in the midst of another fall." "Oh, Uncle Dunston, don't say that!" cried Laura. "We want the moon to shine this evening." "Well, it will shine, Laura," returned the uncle, with a wink of the eye. "It always does shine, even when we don't see it," and then he dodged when she laughingly picked up a chunk of snow and threw it at him. Into the big sleigh piled the girls, and the boys quickly followed. All the back seats had been removed, and they nestled down in the thick straw and covered themselves with numerous robes. "Look out that you don't jounce off when you go over a bump," cried Dunston Porter to Phil and Belle, who sat at the back of the turnout. "Oh, we'll hold on, don't worry!" cried Phil. "I'm used to hanging on," came from the western girl, quickly. "Riding in this sleigh won't be half as bad as hanging on to the back of a half-broken broncho."