“Look here, Drake,” Frank said; “the best thing you can do is to come and stay for the week with me. My guardian is a capital old fellow, and there’s lots of room in the house.” “I should like it of all things, Frank; but does he object to smoke, because I couldn’t do without that?” “He wouldn’t like it in the breakfast-room,” Frank laughed; “but he smokes himself in his study, and I have a special smoking-room upstairs.” “In that case, Frank, I shall be delighted. That guardian of yours must be a trump. I wish my father saw things in the same reasonable light. He’s always down upon me about smoking; but I am afraid he will never cure me of it.” “I am afraid not, Teddy. Well, you can smoke as much as you like while you are with us.” CHAPTER II. THE DUSTMAN’S FAMILY. Nearly three years have passed since the night of the fire at Trinity Hall. It is a cold wintry afternoon, not a clear frost, but raw and foggy. The ice is forming rapidly, and the costermongers are reaping a rich harvest. All the ponds near London are centres of noisy groups of men with carts, of all sizes and sorts, from the large two-horse vehicle down to mere boxes upon wheels drawn by diminutive donkeys. The drivers are striving and quarrelling, and exchanging volleys of abusive language with each other, in their anxiety for priority of place and right of filling their carts. Those next to the water are engaged in breaking the ice with poles, or with iron weights attached to cords. With these they draw the ice to the shore, pulling it up with rakes, and shovelling and lifting it into the carts. When they are filled they drive off to dispose of their loads to confectioners and fishmongers. Although it is nearly dusk there are still a good many strollers by the banks of the Serpentine looking at the state of the ice, and calculating on the chances of skating. On the other side of the bridge, on the long water, the ice is already strong, and will probably bear after another night’s frost; but the Serpentine itself, from its greater breadth and depth, is still thin in many places, and will require two or three days more frost before it will be safe. The ice is everywhere smooth and black, and it is agreed that if the frost holds there will be capital skating. Frank Maynard is walking along the side of the Serpentine with his friend Prescott. He has been for two years upon the Continent, and this is his first winter in England since he left college. “It will be splendid ice for skating if the frost holds, Prescott. I must certainly invest in a pair of new skates. I have some somewhere, but where I have not the remotest idea. You must put by your books, and keep me company, at any rate for a day or two.”