"But what was it you were going to tell about me ?" She spoke as if she had merely then remembered how the conversation began.
His recantation was now complete.

"Nothing; oh, nothing.

T'was just my fun, miss." She surveyed him with earnest disapprobation.
"You're not a very sensible young man, I'm afraid." She said this severely, and then, with great dignity, she went home.
The young man lingered for a minute or two by the snow piles in front of the hotel where they had been standing.

Then he went into the hotel with the uncertain step that betokens an undecided mind.

When he got to the window he looked out at her retreating figure--a white street with this grey-clad healthy-looking girl walking down it, and the little red box-sleigh with the baby in it which she pushed before her.