CHAPTER XVIII.
OLD JEAN'S STORY "It's 'Ho for the forest!'" sang Tom Gray jubilantly, as he waved his stout walking stick over the low stone wall that separated the party of picnickers from Upton Wood.
"Isn't it magnificent ?" asked Grace of Anne, her gray eyes glowing as she looked ahead at the snowy road that stretched like a great white ribbon between the deep green rows of pine and fir trees.
"Perfect," agreed Anne dreamily, who was drinking in the solemn beauty of the snow-wrapped forest, an expression of reverence on her small face.
"I wonder if the snow in the road is very deep ?" soliloquized Jessica unsentimentally.
"How can you break in upon our rapt musings with such commonplaces ?" laughed Grace.

"To return to earth; I don't imagine the snow is deep.
This road is much traveled, and the snow looks fairly well packed.

What do you say, Huntsman Gray ?" She turned to Tom with a smile.
"It isn't deep.

All aboard for Upton Wood!" called Tom cheerily.

"Come on, Grace." He extended a helping hand to her.
But Grace needed no assistance.