"Milton Jennings, you don't"---- "Look out," he cried in mock alarm, "don't you drop those lines!" He gave her a severe hug.
"Milton Jennings, you let go me!" "That's what you said before." "Take these lines." "Can't do it," he laughed; my hands are cold.

Got to warm them, see ?" He pulled off his mitten and put his icy hand under her chin.

The horse was going at a tremendous pace again.
"O-o-o-oh! If you don't take these lines I'll drop 'em, so there!" "Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again.

Bettie's rage was fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and cavalier.
The stinging air made itself felt, and they drew close under their huge buffalo robes as Marc strode steadily forward.

The dark groves fell behind, the clashing bells marked the rods and miles and kept time to the songs they hummed.
"Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells! Jingle all the way.
Oh, what joy it is to ride In a one-horse open sleigh." They overtook another laughing, singing load of young folks--a great wood sleigh packed full with boys and girls, two and two--hooded girls, and boys with caps drawn down over their ears.