"It's almost as good as skiing or flying," laughed Judith as the light sleigh flew over the snow and the bells on the horse jingled a merry accompaniment to their talk. It was another day of magical colouring--all blue and gold and dazzling white, and "Little Oaks" was reached all too soon in Judith's opinion. To their dismay there was no friendly column of smoke announcing the fire that Mme. Berthier had promised. "It's a good thing the Berthiers are only a mile away," said Jack; "whatever can have happened?" He came out of the little whitewashed cottage with a grave face. "Jacques is away at the lumber camp and Toinette and the two younger children are down with flu--Toinette seems very ill; luckily Jeanne is old enough to do the nursing, but they need a doctor, and I'm afraid I'll have to go off at once. Nancy will be disappointed, but it can't be helped. We'll pin a note on the door for her as we go back--it would take too long to open the house and get a good fire going--and a wood fire wouldn't keep in all afternoon anyway--and I couldn't leave you alone--" "Oh, please, please," begged Judith, "do let me stay--couldn't that small boy by the door be coaxed to stay with me for company--I couldn't bear to have Nancy's party spoilt." Judith knew how to be very persuasive and Jack finally gave in. Little Pierre came with them to carry the wood, he was told. Jack opened up the house, carried in the baskets of provisions, and lit a fire of blazing logs. "I'll 'phone to you when I get in, and if you should need anything, or if you feel lonely, ring up Mother in the meantime." "I shan't have a minute to spare for feelings," declared Judith, "Pierre and I have plenty to do." She didn't quite realize how much was to be done when she watched Jack drive off. The living-room to be swept and dusted--that would come first--and no small task when one's arms and back are bruised and aching; then to the kitchen, and judge of her dismay when on opening the baskets she found that, though there were cakes and fruit and salad stuff in plenty, of bread there was only one small loaf. Whatever could--oh, here was a small bag of flour and a tin of baking powder. Judith groaned as she remembered hearing Nancy tell Sally May that Mme. Berthier was a splendid cook and had promised to make heaps of waffles and hot biscuits for them to eat with their baked beans and salad. Twenty hungry skaters appearing in an hour and one small loaf to feed them! Judith had never made waffles, but she had made baking-powder biscuits once or twice, though only, of course, in small quantities. Her first thought was to walk to Mme. Berthier's cottage and ask for directions. No, that wouldn't do--the precious hour would be gone. And Nancy must _not_ be disappointed. "Put on some more wood, Pierre, please. I want a good hot oven," she called to her little helper, and then as he looked blank she tried first her scanty stock of French words and then showed him what to do.