He stood on the shore, listening to the grinding, swaying sound of the
skates, and watching the growing complexity of the curves they were
engraving on the ice. As the girls grew warm and accustomed to the
exercise they laughed, jested, screamed recklessly when they came into
collision, and sailed before the wind down the whole length of the pond
at perilous speed. The more animated they became, the gloomier looked
Smilash. “Not two-penn’orth of choice between them and a parcel of
puppies,” he said; “except that some of them are conscious that there
is a man looking at them, although he is only a blackguard laborer. They
remind me of Henrietta in a hundred ways. Would I laugh, now, if the
whole sheet of ice were to burst into little bits under them?”
Just then the ice cracked with a startling report, and the skaters,
except Jane, skimmed away in all directions.
“You are breaking the ice to pieces, Jane,” said Agatha, calling from a
safe distance. “How can you expect it to bear your weight?”
“Pack of fools!” retorted Jane indignantly. “The noise only shows how
strong it is.”
The shock which the report had given Smilash answered him his question.
“Make a note that wishes for the destruction of the human race, however
rational and sincere, are contrary to nature,” he said, recovering his
spirits. “Besides, what a precious fool I should be if I were working at
an international association of creatures only fit for destruction! Hi,
lady! One word, Miss!” This was to Miss Ward, who had skated into his
neighborhood. “It bein’ a cold morning, and me havin’ a poor and common
circulation, would it be looked on as a liberty if I was to cut a slide
here or take a turn in the corner all to myself?”
“You may skate over there if you wish,” she said, after a pause for
consideration, pointing to a deserted spot at the leeward end of the
pond, where the ice was too rough for comfortable skating.
“Nobly spoke!” he cried, with a grin, hurrying to the place indicated,
where, skating being out of the question, he made a pair of slides,
and gravely exercised himself upon them until his face glowed and his
fingers tingled in the frosty air. The time passed quickly; when Miss
Ward sent for him to take off her skates there was a general groan and
declaration that it could not possibly be half-past eight o’clock yet.
Smilash knelt before the camp-stool, and was presently busy unbuckling
and unscrewing. When Jane’s turn came, the camp-stool creaked beneath
her weight. Agatha again remonstrated with her, but immediately
reproached herself with flippancy before Smilash, to whom she wished to
convey an impression of deep seriousness of character.
“Smallest foot of the lot,” he said critically, holding Jane’s foot
between his finger and thumb as if it were an art treasure which he had
been invited to examine. “And belonging to the finest built lady.”
Jane snatched away her foot, blushed, and said:
“Indeed! What next, I wonder?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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