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It was not until nine o’clock that the ladies expressed their worry again. At that hour, Ted and Lucile Teasdale and Arly Fosland came in with the exuberance of a New Year’s Eve celebration.

“It’s great sleighing to-night,” stated Lucile’s husband, who was a thin-waisted young man, with a splendid natural gift for dancing.

“All that’s missing is the bells,” chattered the black-haired Arly, breaking straight for her favourite big couch in the library. “The only way to have any speed in an auto is to go sidewise.”

“We’re to get up a skidding match, so I can bet on our chauffeur,” laughed Lucile, fluffing her blonde ringlets before the big mirror in the hall. “We slid a complete circle coming down through the Park, and never lost a revolution!”

“I’ve been thinking it must be bad driving,” fretted Mrs. Sargent. “Gail should be home by now!”

“Allison’s a safe driver,” comforted Ted, who liked to see everybody happy.

Jim Sargent came to the door of the study, in which he was closeted with the Reverend Smith Boyd. Jim was practically the young rector’s business guardian.