"Keith Rivers is here and he’s winning everything," she said. "I’m in for the doubles with him to-morrow, and it’s a certainty. Dr. Orange came yesterday. Of course, everyone is more in love with him than ever. The ice has been beastly, but we’ve put in a protest—in fact, we’ve riddled the enemy with potholes, and I suppose he’ll do something. Do you know Ian Kavanagh, I wonder? He was a blue, and his father left him thousands and thousands. It’s awful to start life with that on your shoulders, isn’t it? But he seems strong. Of course, he can’t skate a bit, but we forgive him, because he can do other things. Then I must tell you, there’s Benny—do you know Benny? If you do not, you have missed the joy of your life. He’s the most good-natured, stupidest, obstinate creature I ever met in all my days. Think of it—he’d never been on skis before, and he went out the day before the blizzard and actually tried to jump. I thought he was going to fall over the edge of the world before he’d stop. Oh, he is such a dear, and I do wish he’d move into the hotel, and not stop at that awful villa—" An empty sleigh, drawn by two sturdy horses tandem fashion, came cantering down the path and the business of passing in so difficult a place stilled the ravenous tongue for a moment. When they got on again, Harry Clavering ventured upon an introduction: "This is our philosopher and reigning monarch," he said genially—"Miss Elizabeth Bethune. Permit me to introduce her"; and he turned and waited, remembering that he had not yet the "little widow’s" name. She remembered it also, and her face was crimson when she said: "I am Mrs. Kennaird—I am glad to meet my sovereign." "Oh, indeed," exclaimed Miss Elizabeth with a pretty pout; "this is not a golden age, I assure you, Mrs. Kennaird, and Mr. Clavering never will be sensible; I don’t believe he could be if he tried. It would serve him right if I said nothing about the ghost—" They both looked at her. "The ghost! Here at Andana?" "I should think so; everybody’s seen it but Mr. Benny, and, of course, he’s blind. Do you know the people in the villages are so frightened that some of them are going down to Sierre? Well, it’s true, and even that horrid Dr. Orange, who believes in nothing but his ’brackets,’ why, he’s in a dreadful way about it. We’re to have a picnic after dinner to-night, just to see if we can find it." "I shall certainly come," rejoined Clavering; and then to Mrs. Kennaird he said: "Perhaps you will join the expedition?" But the "little widow" shook her head sadly. "No," she said, "I think not—my life is too full of ghosts. I would not add to the number."