"But you were not here a moment since, and I've no confidence in your discretion when any one is in danger." "I did not run any risks worth speaking of." "I think you did. The men explained, in answer to my questions, that the ice toward spring becomes honeycombed--that's the way they expressed it--and lets one through without much warning. They also said the tides wore it away underneath about as fast as the rain and sun wasted the surface." "Supposing it had let me through, I should have caught on the pole, and so have easily scrambled out, while poor Mr. Barkdale would have been quite helpless." "Oh, I know it was right for you to go, and I know you will go again should there be the slightest occasion. Therefore I am eager to reach solid ground. Please, Webb." Her tone was so earnest that he complied, and they were soon in the sleigh again. As they were driving up the hill she turned a shy glance toward him, and said, hesitatingly: "Don't mistake me, Webb. I am proud to think that you are so brave and uncalculating at times; but then I--I never like to think that you are in danger. Remember how very much you are to us all." "Well, that is rather a new thought to me. Am I much to you?" "Yes, you are," she said, gravely and earnestly, looking him frankly in the face. "From the first moment you spoke to me as 'sister Amy' you made the relation seem real. And then your manner is so strong and even that it's restful to be with you. You may give one a terrible fright, as you did me this afternoon, but you would never make one nervous." His face flushed with deep pleasure, but he made good her opinion by quietly changing the subject, and giving her a brisk, bracing drive over one of her favorite roads.