Dorothy hoped Garry had not started for the West and had become snowbound in some train; but she said nothing about it. It took two full days for the roads to be broken around North Birchland. And then, of course, to use an automobile was quite impossible. The Dale boys were naturally delighted, for there was no school for several days and snow-caves, snowmen and snow monuments of all kind were constructed all over the White lawns. Nor were Joe and Roger alone in these out-of-door activities. The girls, as well as Ned and Nat, lent their assistance, and Tavia proved to be a fine snow sculptor. “Always was. Believe I might learn to work putty and finally become a great sculptor,” she declared. “At Glenwood they said I had a talent for composition.” “What kind of figure do you prefer to sculp, Tavia?” asked Ned, with curiosity. “Oh, I think I should just _love_ a job in an ice-cream factory, turning out works of art for parties and banquets. Or making little figures on New Year’s and birthday cakes. And then—think of all the nice ‘eats’!” “Oh! I’d like to do that,” breathed Roger, with round eyes. “Now, see,” laughed Dorothy, “you have started Roger, perhaps, in a career. He does love ice-cream and cake.” At least the joke started something else if it did not point Roger on the road to fame as an “ice-cream sculptor.” The boy was inordinately fond of goodies and Tavia promised him a treat just as soon as ever she could get into town. A few days before Tavia had been the recipient of a sum of money from home. When he had any money himself Mr. Travers never forgot his pretty daughter’s need. He was doing very well in business now, as well as holding a political position that paid a good salary. This money she had received was of course burning a hole in Tavia’s pocket. She must needs get into town as soon as the roads were passable, to buy goodies as her contract with Roger called for. The horses had not been out of the stable for a week and the coachman admitted they needed exercise. So he was to drive Tavia to town directly after breakfast. It was washday, however, and something had happened to the furnace in the laundry. The coachman was general handy man about the White premises, and he was called upon to fix the furnace just as Tavia—and the horses—were ready. “But who’ll drive me?” asked Tavia, looking askance at the spirited span that the boy from the stables was holding. “Goodness! aren’t they full of ginger?” “Better wait till afternoon,” advised Dorothy. “But they are all ready, and so am I. Besides,” said Tavia with a glance at Roger’s doleful face, “somebody smells disappointment.” Roger understood and said, trying to speak gruffly: “Oh, I don’t mind.” “No. I see you don’t,” Tavia returned dryly, and just then Nat appeared on the porch in bearskin and driving gloves. “Get in, Tavia, if you want to go. The horses need the work, anyway; and the coachman may be all day at that furnace.”