“Well, of all things!” Ned said. “I’d have gone with him if I’d really believed he meant it. Old grouch! He’s been talking of lighting out for a week. But I am glad,” he added cordially, looking at Garry Knapp, “that I did not go. Then I, too, might have missed meeting Mr. Knapp.” Now, what was it kept Major Dale away from the dinner table that evening? His excuse was that a twinge or two of rheumatism kept him from appearing with the family when dinner was called. And yet Dorothy did not appear worried by her father’s absence as she ordinarily would have been. Tavia was secretly delighted by this added manifestation of Dorothy’s finesse. Garry Knapp could not find any excuse for withdrawing from the house until he had interviewed the major. As was usual at The Cedars, the evening meal was a lively and enjoyable occasion. Tavia successfully hid her chagrin at Nat’s absence; but Joe and Roger were this evening the life of the company. “The river’s frozen,” sang Roger, “and we’re going skating on it, Joe and I. Did you ever go skating, Mr. Knapp?” for Roger believed it only common politeness to bring the visitor into the conversation. “Sure enough,” laughed Garry Knapp. “I used to be some skater, too.” “You’d better come,” said Roger. “It’s going to be moonlight—Popeye Jordan says so, and he knows, for his father lights the street lamps and this is one of the nights he doesn’t have to work.” “I hope Popeye hasn’t made a mistake—or Mr. Jordan, either—in reading the almanac,” Dorothy said, when the laugh had subsided. “You’d better come, too, Dorothy,” said Joe. “The river’s as smooth as glass.” “Let’s all go,” proposed Tavia, glad to be in anything active that would occupy her mind and perhaps would push out certain unpleasant thoughts that lodged there. “Mr. Knapp has no skates,” said Dorothy, softly. “Don’t let that stop you,” the Westerner put in, smiling. “I can go and look on.” “Oh, I guess we can give you a look _in_,” said Ned. “There’s Nat’s skates. I think he didn’t take ’em with him.” “Will they fit Mr. Knapp?” asked Tavia. “Dead sure that nobody’s got a bigger foot than old Nat,” said his brother wickedly. “If Mr. Knapp can get into my coat, he’ll find no trouble in getting into Nat’s shoes.” Ned rather prided himself on his own small and slim foot and often took a fling at the size of his brother’s shoes. But now, Nat not being present, he hoped to “get a rise” out of Tavia. The girl, however, bit her lip and said nothing. She was not even defending Nat these days. It was concluded that all should go—that is, all the young people then present. Nat and Jennie’s absence made what Ned called “a big hole” in the company. “You be good to me, Dot,” he said to his cousin, as they waited in the side hall for Tavia to come down. “I’m going to miss Jennie awfully. I want to skate with you and tell you all about it.” “All about what?” demanded his cousin, laughing.