The sweet girl face grew red and kinder.

"I was mean, John Penhallow.

I am sorry I was rude." "No--no," he exclaimed, "it was I who was--was--ill-mannered.

I--mean to coast if I die." "Die," she laughed gaily.

"Let me go first." "Go ahead then." She was astride of the sled and away down the long descent, while he watched her swift flight.