As she tripped down the broad stairs in a rich cloak trimmed with fur, she reminded Hemstead of some rare tropical bird, and De Forrest indulged in many notes of admiration. Lottie received these as a matter of course, but looked at the student with genuine interest. His expression seemed to satisfy her, for she turned away to hide a smile that meant mischief. It was quietly arranged that Hemstead should sit beside her, and he felicitated himself over their artifice as if it were rare good fortune. Though the sun and the rising breeze had shaken off the clustering snow to a great extent, the evergreens still bent beneath their beautiful burdens, some straight cedars reminding one of vigorous age, where snowy hair and beard alone suggest the flight of years. Though the face of nature was so white, it was not the face of death. There was a sense of movement and life which was in accord with their own spirits and rapid motion. Snow-birds fluttered and twittered in weedy thickets by the way-side, breakfasting on the seeds that fell like black specks upon the snow. The bright sunlight had lured the red squirrels from their moss-lined nests in hollow trees, and their barking was sometimes heard above the chime of the bells. "There goes a parson crow," cried Addie Marchmont. "How black and solemn he looks against the snow!" "Why are crows called parsons, Mr. Hemstead?" asked Lottie, as a child might. "Indeed, I don't know. For as good a reason, I suppose, as that some girls are called witches." She gave him a quick, keen look, and said, "I hope you mean nothing personal." "I should never charge you with being a witch, Miss Marsden, but I might with witchery." "A distinction without a difference," she said, seeking to lead him on. "He means," explained De Forrest, "that you might be bewitching if you chose." "Hush, Julian, you leave no room for the imagination," said Lottie, frowningly. "Look at that farm-yard, Miss Marsden," said Hemstead. "The occupants seem as glad that the storm is over as we are. What pictures of placid content those ruminating cows are under that sunny shed. See the pranks of that colt which the boy is trying to lead to water. I wish I were on his back, with the prairie before me." "Indeed, are you so anxious to escape present company?" "Now I didn't say that. But we have passed by, and I fear you did not see the pretty rural picture to which I called your attention. Were I an artist I would know where to make a sketch to-day." "I think you will find that Miss Marsden's taste differs very widely from yours," said De Forrest; "that is, if you give us to understand that you would seek your themes in a barn-yard, and set your easel upon a muck-heap. Though your pictures might not rank high they would still be very rank."