"The nail-man won't be long," said Archie to Dahlia, on his return. "I'm to call for them in a quarter of an hour." "Can't you wear some other boots, Dahlia, or your bedroom slippers or something? It's half-past eleven. We really must get off soon." "But we haven't settled where we're going yet." "Then for 'eving's sake let's do it. Myra and I thought we might go up above the wood at the back and explore. We can always ski down. It might be rather exciting." "Remember," said Dahlia, "I'm not so expert as you are." "Of course," said Myra, "we're the Oberland mixed champions." "You know," said Archie, "I was talking to the man who's doing Dahlia's boots and he said the snow would be bad for ski-ing to-day." "If he talked in French, no doubt you misunderstood him," I said, a little annoyed. "He was probably asking you to buy a pair of skates." "Talking about that," said Archie, "why shouldn't we skate this morning, and have lunch at the hotel, and then get the bob out this afternoon?" "Here you are," said Thomas, coming up with a heavy rucksack. "Lunch for six, so you'll have an extra one." "I'd forgotten about lunch," said Archie. "Look here, just talk it over with Dahlia while I go and see about my skates. I don't suppose Josef will mind if we do stay in to lunch after all. What about Simpson?" I looked at Myra ... and sighed. "What about him?" I said. . . . . . Half an hour later two exhausted people--one of them with lunch for six on his back--began the ascent to the wood, trailing their skis behind them. "Another moment," said Myra, "and I should have screamed." IV.--THOMAS, AND A TURN Myra finished her orange, dried her hands daintily on my handkerchief, and spoke her mind. "This is the third time," she said, "that Thomas has given us the slip. If he gets engaged to that girl in red I shall cry." "There are," I said, idly throwing a crust at Simpson and missing him, "engagements and Swiss engagements--just as there are measles and German measles. It is well known that Swiss engagements don't count." "_We_ got engaged in Kent. A bit of luck." "I have nothing against Miss Aylwyn----" I went on. "Except the way she does her hair." "--but she doesn't strike me as being the essential Rabbit. We cannot admit her to the--er--fold." "The covey," suggested Myra. "The warren. Anyhow, she---- Simpson, for goodness' sake stop fooling about with your bearded friend and tell us what you think of it all." We were finishing lunch in the lee of a little chalet, high above the hotel, and Simpson had picked up an acquaintance with a goat, which he was apparently trying to conciliate with a piece of chocolate. The goat, however, seemed to want a piece of Simpson. "My dear old chap, he won't go away. Here--shoo! shoo! I wish I knew what his name was." "Ernest," said Myra.