|
|
When Grace paused at Mrs. Gray's side after the two-step, she saw plainly
that the old lady was much agitated.
"Grace," she said quickly, "what is all this nonsense about Anne?"
"O Mrs. Gray," cried Grace. "Who could have been so unkind as to tell you?
We didn't want you to know. It is all so foolish."
"But I want to know," said the old lady positively. "Anne is so very dear
to me, and I can't allow these hare-brained girls to make damaging
statements about her. Tell me at once, Grace."
Grace reluctantly gave a brief account of her recent disagreement with her
class and the unpleasantness to which Anne had been subjected.
"What does ail Miriam Nesbit? She used to be such a nice child!" exclaimed
Mrs. Gray. "Really, Grace, I feel that I ought to go straight to Miss
Thompson with this."
Grace's heart sank. That was just what she did not want Mrs. Gray to do.
"Dear Mrs. Gray," she said, patting the old lady's hand, "it is better for
us to fight it out by ourselves. If Miss Thompson knew all that had
happened, she would forbid basketball for the rest of the season. She is
awfully opposed to anything of that kind, and would champion Anne's cause
to the end, but Anne would rather let matters stand the way they are, than
lose us our basketball privilege. You see, the juniors have won the first
game, and if basketball were stopped now we would have no chance to make
up our lost ground. I firmly believe that all will come right in the end,
and I think the girls will get tired of their grudge and gradually drop
it. Of course it hurts to be snubbed, but I guess we can stand it. We have
some friends who are loyal, at any rate."
"I suppose you are right, my dear," responded the old lady. "It is better
for old folks to keep their fingers out of young folk's pies. But what did
that pert miss mean about Anne's father being an actor? I had an idea he
was dead."
So Grace told Mrs. Gray the story of Anne's father, beginning from where
he had intercepted Anne on her way from the aėroplane exhibition during
her freshman year, up to the time of the arrival of his letter begging for
money.
"Anne used her freshman prize money last year to help him out of trouble.
He forged a friend's name for one hundred dollars, and would have had to
go to prison had she not made good the money he took, I always wanted you
to know about it, Mrs. Gray, but Anne felt so badly over it, she begged me
never to tell any one."
"Your story explains a great many things I never before understood," said
Mrs. Gray. "That doll that was sent to the Christmas party last year, for
instance. But how did Miriam find out about it?"
"We don't know," said Grace. "Her doings are dark and mysterious. Find out
she did; and she has told the story with considerable effect among the
girls."
"It is too bad," mused Mrs. Gray. "I should like to right matters were it
possible, but as long as you don't wish it, my dear, I suppose I must let
you fight it out by yourselves. But one thing I am sure of, Anne shall
never want for a friend as long as I live. Now run along and have a good
time. I've kept you here when you might have been dancing."
"I have loved being with you," said Grace. "I shall not tell Anne about
what was said," she added in a lower tone.
"That is right, Grace," responded Mrs. Gray. "No need of hurting the
child's feelings."
During the balance of the evening nothing occurred to discomfit either
Grace or Anne. To be sure there was a marked coolness exhibited by most of
their classmates, but David took charge of Anne and saw to it that nothing
disturbed her. Grace, who was a general favorite with the High School boys
of Oakdale, could have filled her programme three times over. She was the
embodiment of life and danced with such apparent unconcern that the mind
of more than one sophomore was divided as to whether to cleave to Miriam
or renew their former allegiance to Grace.
It was well after one o'clock when the "Home, Sweet Home" waltz sounded.
The floor was well filled with dancers, for the majority of the guests had
remained until the end of the ball. As the last strains of the music died
away the sophomores sent their class yell echoing through the gymnasium.
It was answered by the various yells of the other classes, given with true
High School fervor. Each class trying to outdo the other in the making of
noise.
Sleepy chaperons began gathering up their charges. The sophomore ball was
a thing of the past.
"These late hours and indigestible suppers are bound to break down my
delicate constitution yet," Hippy confided to Nora.
"In that case I shall make it a point to see that you don't receive any
more invitations to our parties," Nora answered cruelly. "Then you can
stay at home and build up that precious health of yours."
"Don't mention it," replied Hippy hastily. "I would rather become an
emaciated wreck than deprive myself of your society."
"It was simply glorious," said Anne to Grace as they stood waiting for
their carriage, "and was there ever such a nice boy as David!"
Grace pressed Anne's hand by way of answer. She knew that David had
understood the situation and had taken care to steer Anne clear of shoals,
and Grace determined that no matter what Miriam might say or do in future,
for David's sake it should be overlooked.
CHAPTER XI
A LION AT LAST
It was a week before the last borrowed decoration reposed in its original
place, and fully that long before the echoes of the sophomore ball died
out. It was pronounced the most successful class function given in Oakdale
for a number of years, and the sophomores felt justly proud of themselves.
Miriam Nesbit took particular pains to point out that the success of the
affair was in no way due to Grace Harlowe, and many of the girls who had
hitherto believed that Grace was a necessary factor in High School fun,
decided that they had perhaps overrated her ability.
Grace was fully cognizant of their change of heart, and spent more than
one unhappy hour over it, but outwardly she carried herself as though
unaware of the many little ill-natured stabs directed toward her. Anne,
who was completely ignored, took it philosophically, her only regret being
the fact that Grace had been dragged into difficulties on her account.
Thanksgiving had come and gone. The High School boys had played their
usual game of football with a neighboring school and whipped them to a
standstill, David had played on the team and covered himself with glory by
making a sensational touchdown. The girl chums had worn his colors and
shrieked themselves hoarse with joy over the prowess of their friend.
Miriam, secretly proud of her brother, resolved to make a like record for
herself during the next basketball game, which was to take place during
the following week. She believed that it was the last touch needed to make
her the avowed leader of her class. She even dreamed that the basketball
captaincy might one day be hers. To be sure Grace had Nora on her side,
and Nora was one of the regular players, but the other two players were
Miriam's faithful allies. That made three against two, and the second team
had practically declared in her favor. Grace would have to do differently
if she expected to keep the captaincy.
Meanwhile Grace was finding the captaincy of a team divided against itself
anything but satisfactory. The girls, with the exception of Nora, obeyed
her orders indifferently and as though under protest. It was almost
impossible to get every member to come to practice. Some one of them
invariably stayed away. On one occasion she spoke rather sharply to the
team about it, but her earnest words were received with sullen
resentment.
"What is the use of working ourselves to death simply to have our game
handed over to the enemy?" one girl had muttered.
Grace colored at this thrust, but closed her lips tightly and made no
reply. But the attitude of her team worked upon her mind, and she lost
confidence in herself. She realized that a new and injurious influence was
at work, and she was powerless to stem the tide of dissension that had
arisen.
The practice game was played on the afternoon before the contest, and not
even Jessica was there to witness it, although she had formerly been taken
as a matter of course. When invited to attend practice she had scornfully
refused it.
"No, thank you," she said. "If anything should go wrong to-morrow I'd be
accused of treachery. No one's reputation is safe in this class." At which
remark several sophomores had the grace to blush.
The day dawned bright and clear. Grace arrived at the gymnasium long
before the others. She was worried and anxious over the behavior of her
team. She was half afraid that some one of them would absent herself, in
which case one of the substitutes would have to be called, and Grace
doubted whether they could be relied upon.
Two months before, she had been certain that there were no players like
those of the sophomore organization. Now she had no confidence in them or
herself. She had a faint hope that when the game opened, her players would
forget their grievances and work for the honor of the sophomores. She
would do her best at all events, and Nora could be depended upon, too. All
this passed rapidly through Grace's mind as she waited for the team to
appear.
The spectators were arriving in numbers. The gallery was almost full, and
it still lacked fifteen minutes of the time before the game would be
called. The proverbial little bird had been extremely busy, and all sorts
of rumors regarding the two teams were afloat. The juniors were, as usual,
seated in a body and making a great deal of unnecessary noise. The members
of the sophomore class were scattered here and there. Anne and Jessica sat
with three or four of the girls who had refused to pay any attention to
the talk about Anne. A dozen or more of Miriam's flock sat together
watching for the appearance of their favorite. Occasionally they glanced
over toward Anne, whispered to each other, and then giggled in a way that
made Anne wince and Jessica feel like ordering them out of the gallery.
Grace and Nora stood talking together at one end of the gymnasium. Grace
kept an anxious eye on the clock. It was five minutes of two and Miriam
had not arrived. "Would she dare to stay away?" Grace wondered. At two
minutes of two there was a burst of applause from the section of the
gallery where Miriam's admirers were seated. Grace glanced quickly around
to see what had caused it, and beheld Miriam serenely approaching, a
satisfied smile on her face. She had waited until the last minute in the
hope of making a sensation, and had not been disappointed. Then the game
began.
Julia Crosby and Grace Harlowe once more faced each other on the field of
action. This time Grace won the toss and sent the ball whizzing to the
goal thrower, who tried for goal and caged the ball without effort. This
aroused the sophomores, and Grace could have danced for joy as she saw
that they were really going to work in earnest. The juniors were on the
alert, too. If they won to-day that meant the season's championship. If
they won the third game, that meant a complete whitewash for the
sophomores.
So the juniors hotly contested every inch of the ground, and the
sophomores found that they had their hands full. The first half of the
game closed with the score 8 to 6 in favor of the juniors.
During the intermission of twenty minutes between halves, the sophomores
retired to the little room off the gymnasium to rest. The outlook was
indeed gloomy. It was doubtful whether they could make up their loss
during the last half. Marian Barber, Eva Allen and Miriam whispered
together in one corner. Grace sat with her chin in her hand, deep in
thought, while Nora stood staring out the window trying to keep back the
tears. Two or three of the substitutes strolled in and joined Miriam's
group. The whispering grew to be a subdued murmur. The girls were
evidently talking about Grace, hence their lowered voices. Their
long-suffering captain looked at them once or twice, made a move as if to
join them, then sat down again. Nora's blood was up at the girls'
rudeness. She marched over to the group and was about to deliver her
opinion of them in scathing terms, when the whistle sounded. There was a
general scramble for places. Then the ball was put in play and the second
half began.
The sophomores managed to tie the score during the early part of the last
half, and from that on held their own. They fought strenuously to keep the
juniors from scoring. When the juniors did score, the plucky sophomores
managed to do the same soon after. There were two more minutes of the
game, and the score stood 10 to 10. It looked as though it might end in a
tie. One of the juniors had the ball. With unerring aim she threw it to
goal. It never reached there, for Miriam Nesbit made a dash, sprang
straight into the air and caught the ball before it reached its
destination. Quick as a flash she threw it to Nora, who threw it to Marian
Barber. The latter being near the basket threw it to goal without any
trouble.
Before the juniors could get anywhere near the ball the whistle blew and
the game closed. Score 12 to 10. The sophomores had won.
The noise in the gallery was deafening. Miriam's sensational playing had
taken every one by storm. A crowd of sophomores rushed down to the
gymnasium and began dancing around her singing their class song. Her
cheeks were scarlet and her eyes blazed with triumph. She was a lion at
last, and now the rest would follow. She felt sure that she would be asked
to take the place of Grace as captain. She had shown them what she could
do. Grace had done nothing but cause trouble. The team would be better off
without her.
Anne and Jessica were waiting in the corridor for Grace and Nora. The two
players rapidly changed their clothes and soon the chums were walking down
the quiet street.
"Well," said Jessica, "Miriam has done it at last."
"She has, indeed," responded Grace, "and no one begrudges her her glory.
She made a star play and saved the day for us. She is loyal to the team
even if she doesn't like their captain."
"I don't know about that," said Nora, "I think she might have exerted
herself during the first game if she wanted so much to show her loyalty.
She was anything but a star player, then. I have no faith in her,
whatever. She cares for no one but herself, and that star play was for her
own benefit, not because of any allegiance to her team. She's up to
something, you may depend upon that."
"Oh, Nora, don't be too hard on her. She deserves great credit for her
work. Don't you think so, girls?" Grace turned appealingly to Anne and
Jessica.
"It was a remarkable play," said Anne.
Jessica made no answer. She would not praise Grace's enemy, even to please
Grace.
"You may say what you please," said Nora obstinately, "I shall stick to my
own convictions. The way those girls stood in the corner and whispered
during intermission was simply disgraceful. Mark my words, something will
come of it."
"Oh, here comes David on his motorcycle," called Anne delightedly.
David slowed up when he saw the girls, alighted and greeted them warmly.
He at once congratulated them on their victory.
"I congratulate you on having a star player for a sister," said Grace. "It
must run in the family." She referred to his late football triumphs.
David flushed with pleasure, more at the compliment paid to his sister
than the one meant for him.
"Sis can come up to the mark when she wants to," he said earnestly. "I
hope she repeats the performance." Then he abruptly changed the subject.
That one little speech revealed to his friends the fact that he understood
the situation and longed with all his heart for a change of tactics on the
part of his sister.
CHAPTER XII
THE WAYS OF SCHOOLGIRLS
The clang of the gong announced the end of school for the day, but some of
the sophomores lingered in their locker-room.
They had a very disagreeable communication to make that afternoon, to one
of their class, and now that the time had come were inclined to shrink
from the ordeal.
"I think Miriam should break the news herself," observed Marian Barber,
"as long as she is to succeed Grace."
"Miriam isn't here," said Eva Allen, "she went home early. She told me she
could not bear to see anyone unhappy. She is so sensitive you know?" Eva
Allen was devoted to Miriam's cause.
"Oh, I don't know about that," said practical Marian. "She'll make a good
captain, however, because she has showed more loyalty to the team than
Grace has."
Marian firmly believed what she said. She had never been an ardent admirer
of Miriam, and had at first stubbornly refused to repudiate Grace. But
Miriam had little by little instilled into her the idea of Grace's
incompetency, until Marian, who thought only of the good of the team,
became convinced that a change of captains was advisable. Miriam's
brilliant playing in the recent game was the final touch needed, and now
Marian was prepared to do what she considered was her absolute duty.
"Suppose we write Grace a letter," suggested one of the substitutes, "as
long as no one seems anxious to tell her."
"Hush," exclaimed Eva Allen, holding up her finger. "Here come Nora and
Jessica. I know they are going to make a lot of fuss when they hear the
news. Suppose we go back to the classroom and write the letter. We can all
sign our names to it, and then we'll be equally to blame."
The conspirators accordingly trooped into the corridor, just as Nora and
Jessica were about to enter the locker-room.
"What in the world is the matter now?" called Jessica. "You girls looks as
guilty as though you'd stolen a gold mine."
"Wait and see," said Eva with a rather embarrassed laugh, as she hurried
after the others up the stairs.
"Do you know, Jessica, I believe they're up to some hateful mischief. What
did I tell you the other day? Those girls have given Grace the cold
shoulder more than ever, since the game. They have been following Miriam
about like a lot of sheep. Grace notices it, too, and it makes her
unhappy, only she's too proud to say so."
"Never mind," said Jessica soothingly. "They'll be sorry some day.
Miriam's influence won't last. Grace did perfectly right in standing by
Anne, and you and I must always stand by Grace. Grace is a fine captain,
and----"
"What are you saying about me?" demanded Grace herself, walking into the
locker-room with Anne.
Jessica blushed and was silent, but Nora said glibly, "Oh, Jessica just
now said that you made a fine captain." Then she went on hurriedly, "I
think our chances for winning the championship are better than ever, don't
you?"
"The juniors have been practising like mad since their defeat," mused
Grace. "They will make a hard fight next time. Miss Thompson told me
yesterday that she never saw better work in basketball than ours last
Saturday. I am so proud of my team even, though they haven't been very
nice to me lately. My whole desire is for them to win the final game. I
suppose a captain has about the same feeling toward her players that a
mother has toward her daughters. She is willing to make any sacrifice in
order to make fine girls of them."
"And you are a fine captain," cried Anne. "I felt so proud of you the
other day. You handled your team so well. Knowing how hateful they have
been, it was wonderful to see you give your orders as though nothing had
happened. No other girl could have done it."
"That is a nice compliment, Anne, dear," said Grace pleased with the words
of praise from her friend, for the bitterness of her recent unpopularity
had made her heart heavy.
At that moment the sophomores whom Jessica and Nora had encountered filed
into the room.
Each girl wore a self-conscious expression. Eva Allen carried an envelope
in her hand. She was confused and nervous.
Once inside the door the girls paused and began a whispered conversation.
Then Eva Allen tried to push the envelope into another girl's hand; but
the girl put her hands behind her back and obstinately refused to take it.
There was another whispered conference with many side glances in Grace's
direction.
Nora stood scowling savagely at the group. She noticed that it consisted
of the basketball team and its substitutes. They were all there except
Miriam.
"If you have any secrets, girls," remarked Grace in a hurt tone, "please
postpone the telling of them for a few minutes. I am going, directly."
She opened her locker and drew out her coat and hat, trying to hide the
tears that filled her eyes.
Then Marian Barber impatiently took the envelope from Eva and stepped
forward. She had made up her mind to get the whole thing over as rapidly
as she could.
"Er--Grace," she said, clearing her throat, "er--the team has----"
"Well, what is it?" exclaimed Nora, irritated beyond her power of
endurance. "Why don't you speak out, instead of stuttering in that
fashion? I always did detest stuttering."
"Marian has a note for you, Grace," interposed one of the substitutes
growing bolder.
Marian placed the note in Grace's hand and turned slowly away. Up to that
minute she had believed that what they were about to do was for the best;
but all at once the feeling swept over her that she had done a
contemptible thing. She turned as though about to take the envelope from
Grace, but the latter had already opened it, and unfolding the paper began
reading the contents aloud.
"Dear Grace," she read, "after a meeting to-day of the members of the
regular and substitute sophomore basketball teams, it was decided that
your resignation as captain of the same be requested.
"We are sorry to do this, but we believe it is for the good of the team.
We feel that you cannot be loyal to its interests as long as you persist
in being a friend of one of its enemies."
The names of the players, with the exception of Nora's and Miriam's, were
signed to this communication.
After she had finished reading Grace stood perfectly still, looking
searchingly into the faces of her classmates. She was trying to gain her
self-control before speaking to them.
She could hardly realize that her own team had dealt this cruel blow. For
the first time in her life she had received a real shock. She took a long
deep breath and clenched her hands. She did not wish to break down before
she had spoken what was in her mind.
Nora was muttering angrily to herself. Jessica looked ready to cry, while
Anne, pale and resolute, came over and stood by Grace. She felt that she
had been the primary cause of the whole trouble. She had borne the girls'
unjust treatment of herself in silence, but, now, they had visited their
displeasure upon Grace, and that was not to be borne.
"How dared you do such a despicable thing?" she cried. "You are cruel,
unfeeling, and oh, so unjust. You accused me of something I would scorn
to do, and not satisfied with that, visited your petty spite upon a girl
who is the soul of truth and honor. You may say what you choose about me,
but you shall not hurt Grace, and if you don't immediately retract what
you have written I will take measures which may prove most unpleasant to
all of you."
Just what Anne intended to do she did not know, but her outburst had its
effect on the conspirators, and they squirmed uneasily under the lash of
her words. Perhaps, they had misjudged this slender, dark-eyed girl after
all.
Before Anne could say more, Grace spoke quietly.
"Sit down, all of you," she said at last, with a sweetness and dignity
that was remarkable in so young a girl. "I have something to say to you.
It is curious," she went on, "that I was just talking about our basketball
team when you came into the room. I had said to Nora, Jessica and Anne
that I wanted more than anything else in the world to beat the junior
team. Miss Thompson had been praising the team to me, and I said to the
girls that I thought I loved it just as a mother loves her daughters.
There is no sacrifice I wouldn't make to keep up the team's good work, and
that is the reason why I am going to make a sacrifice, now, and decline
to resign. If I had been a poor captain, you would have had a right to
ask for my resignation But I haven't. I have been a good, hard-working,
conscientious captain, and I have made a success of the team. None of you
can deny it. If you took a new captain at this stage it might ruin
everything, and I tell you I have thought too much about it; I have set my
heart on it so firmly that it would just break if we lost the deciding
game."
Her voice broke a little. Nora was sobbing openly. It was hard work for
Grace to control her own tears.
"Of course," she went on, clearing her throat and raising her voice to
steady it, "it will be a sacrifice for me to keep on being your captain
when you don't want me. It's no fun, I can assure you. Perhaps none of you
has ever felt the hurt that comes of being turned out by people who were
once fond of you. I hope you never will. I am still fond of all of you,
and some day, perhaps, you will see that you have made a mistake. At any
rate, I decline to resign my place. It was given to me for the year, and I
won't give it up."
Grace turned her back and walked to the window. She had come at last to
the end of her strength. She leaned against the window jamb and wept
bitterly.
But the address of Mark Anthony over the dead body of Cęsar was not more
effective than this simple schoolgirl's speech. Every girl there melted
into tears of remorse and sympathy.
"Oh, Grace," cried Marian Barber, "won't you forgive us? We never dreamed
it would hurt you so. Now that I look back upon it, I can't see how we
could have asked you to do it. We did believe that Miss Pierson betrayed
us; but after all, that had nothing to do with your being captain of the
team. I think you have been a great deal more loyal than we have. I want
to say right here, girls, that I apologize to Grace and scratch my name
off the list."
She took a pencil, dashing it through her signature, which was the first
one on the letter.
One by one each of the other girls put a pencil stroke through her name.
Then they pinned on their hats, slipped into their coats and left the room
as quickly as possible. They were all desperately ashamed; each in her
secret heart wished she had never entered into the conspiracy.
They had given the captaincy to Grace, and after all, they had no right to
take away what they had freely given, and for no better reason than that
Grace was loyal to a friend whom they distrusted.
It was a cruel thing that they had done. They admitted it to each other
now, and wished they had never listened to Miriam Nesbit.
Speaking of Miriam, who was to tell her that she had not supplanted Grace
after all, as captain of the team.
"You are all cowards," exclaimed Marian Barber still buoyed up by her
recent emotions, "I am not afraid of Miriam, or anyone else, and I'll
undertake to tell her."
But at the last moment she determined to break the news by letter.
In the meantime, Miss Thompson had quietly entered the locker-room, where
Grace and her three chums were still standing.
"Grace," said the principal, "I was passing by and I could not help
overhearing what has been said, and while I don't care to enter into the
little private quarrels of my girls, I want to tell you that you made a
noble defense of your position. I am very proud of you, my child." Miss
Thompson put her arms around the weeping girl and kissed her. "I wish
every girl in my school would make such a stand for her principles. You
were right not to have resigned. Always do what your judgment tells you is
right, no matter what the result is, and don't give up the captaincy!"
CHAPTER XIII
A SKATING PARTY
The holidays had come and gone, and the pupils of Oakdale High School had
resigned themselves to a period of hard study. The dreaded mid-year
examinations stared them in the face, and for the time being basketball
ardor had cooled and a surprising devotion to study had ensued.
Since the day that Grace had refused to give up her captaincy there had
been considerable change in the girls' attitude toward her. She had not
regained her old-time popularity, but it was evident that her schoolmates
respected her for her brave decision and treated her with courtesy. They
still retained a feeling of suspicion toward Anne, however, although they
did not openly manifest it.
Miriam Nesbit had been inwardly furious over the outcome of her plan to
gain the captaincy, but she was wise enough to assume an air of
indifference over her defeat. Grace's speech had made considerable
impression on the minds of even Miriam's most devoted supporters and she
knew that the slightest slip on her part would turn the tide of opinion
against her.
Grace was in a more cheerful frame of mind than formerly. She felt that
all would come right some day. "Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,"
she told herself, and the familiar saying proved very comforting to her.
Winter had settled down on Oakdale as only a northern winter can do. There
had been snow on the ground since Thanksgiving, and sleigh rides and
skating parties were in order.
Grace awoke one Saturday morning in high good humor.
"To-day's the day," she said to herself. "Hurrah for skating!"
She hurried through her breakfast and was donning her fur cap and sweater,
when Anne, Jessica and Nora, accompanied by David, Hippy, Reddy and, to
her surprise and delight, Tom Gray, turned in at her gate.
"'Oh, be joyful, oh, be gay,
For there's skating on the bay,'"
sang Hippy.
"Meaning pond, I suppose," laughed Grace, as she opened her front door.
"Meaning pond?" answered Hippy, "only pond doesn't rhyme with gay."
"You might say,
"'Oh, be joyful, oh, be fond,
For there's skating on the pond,'"
suggested David.
"Fond of what?" demanded Hippy.
"Of the person you've asked to skate with you," replied David, looking
toward Anne, who stood with a small pair of new skates tucked under her
arm.
"I shall be initiated into all the mysteries of the world soon," she
observed, smiling happily. "Last year it was coasting and football and now
it's dancing and skating. When I once get these things on, David, I'll be
like a bird trying its wings, I'll flop about just as helplessly."
"I'm awfully glad to see you, Tom," said Grace, "I did not expect to see
you until Easter."
"Oh, I couldn't keep away," laughed Tom. "This is the jolliest place I
know."
"Good reason," said Reddy, "we are the real people."
"Stop praising yourself and listen to me," said Hippy. "Our pond has
frozen over in the most obliging manner. It's as smooth as glass. Let's go
there to skate. There's a crowd of boys and girls on it already."
The pond on the Wingate estate was really a small lake, a mile or more in
circumference. While it froze over every winter, the ice was apt to be
rough, and there were often dangerous places in it, air-holes and thin
spots where several serious accidents had occurred.
|
