Some such new, or revised, impression of her had formed itself in Arthur's mind and found voice now in his bantering speech. His gaze rested on her in pleasure as he added, "But you needn't carry it too far. Nobody wants you to become a gusher." "Heaven forbid!" she murmured. "I really think I'm safe from that. I've too much native malice about me--and it will out!" "Perpetual founts of warm emotion--geysers! Terrible people!" "Oh, even you're hardly as bad as that!" "They debase the emotional currency," said Arthur, with a sudden and violent change of metaphor. On Christmas Day hard weather set in, with a keen frost. A few days of it promised skating on the low-lying meadows, now under flood. Full of hope and joyful anticipation, Arthur telegraphed for his skates. "Can you skate? Have you got any skates? If you can't, I'll teach you," he said excitedly to Judith. "I have skates, and I can skate--thank you all the same," she replied, smiling demurely. "But you and I can teach Margaret between us. I don't suppose Godfrey will care about doing it." The frost held, their hopes were realised. Godfrey's attitude was what had been expected; with pathetic objurgations on the weather he shut himself up in his study. The other three sallied forth, though Margaret seemed alarmed and reluctant. "I haven't skated for years," said Arthur, "but I used rather to fancy myself." "Well, you start, while I give Margaret a lesson." Arthur was an average skater--perhaps a little above the average of those who have been content to depend on the scanty natural opportunities offered by the English climate. He was master of the outside edge, and could manage a "three," an "eight" and, in a rather wobbly fashion, a few other simple figures. These he proceeded to execute, rather "fancying himself" as he had confessed, while Judith held Margaret in a firm grip and tried to direct her helplessly slithering feet. "I don't think I like skating," said Margaret, with her usual mild firmness. "I can't stand up, and it makes my ankles ache." "Oh, but you're only just beginning, dear." "I don't think I like it, Cousin Judith." Judith's brows went up in humorous despair. "Just like Godfrey!" she reflected helplessly. "Oh well, have a rest now, while I put my skates on and show you how nice it will be, when you've learnt how to do it." "I don't think I shall ever like it, Cousin Judith. I think I shall go back and see what papa's doing." Judith yielded. "Do as you like, Margaret," she said. "Perhaps you'll try again to-morrow?" "Well, perhaps," Margaret conceded very doubtfully. "The ice is splendid. Hurry up!" Arthur called. But Judith did not hurry. After putting on her skates, she sat on a hurdle for some minutes, watching Arthur's evolutions with a thoughtful smile. He came to a stand opposite to her, after performing the most difficult figure in his repertory, his eyes and cheeks glowing and his breath coming fast. "How's that for high?" he asked proudly.