The sharp, blue and white afternoon was paling to sunset. The pond flashed and glittered with empty light. In the middle rose the clump of withered flags, dry starved grasses and marsh plants, berried bushes and little willows,--the whole a blur of pastel shades, purplish-brown, fading green, yellow and russet, with here and there a burning shred of isolated colour,--a splash of crimson, a streak of gold. The whirr and scratch of skates murmured on the air, and the skaters wove without pause, swiftly, lightly, like flies on a ceiling. Beneath the ice the needling grass-blades and the little water-weeds were still, spellbound; outspread stiffly, delicately in multitudinous and infinitesimal loveliness. As she stood alone gazing down at them Julian came back to her side and said: ‘Do you ever come to London?’ ‘Hardly ever. If Daddy’s at home he generally takes me to a theatre at Christmas; and now and then I go with Mamma for clothes.’ ‘Well, you’d better come up some time soon and we’ll go to a play. Fix it with Mariella.’ ‘Oh!’ It couldn’t be true,--it could never happen. There was a scratch and stumble of skates, and the other two came to a wavering halt in front of them. ‘We must go,’ said Mariella. ‘Judith’s coming to go to a play with us,’ said Julian. ‘Oh, good,’ said Mariella, not interested. ‘When?’ snapped Julian. ‘Fix it.’ ‘I don’t know,’ she said, with a quick glance at him. ‘We must ask Grannie. I’ll ask Grannie, Judith, and let you know to-morrow.’ ‘Because we’re coming back to-morrow,’ broke in Charlie. ‘Julian, we must, mustn’t we? Will you be here, Judith?’ ‘Oh yes.’ ‘That’s good, because I shall need you. I need thee every hour. I shall have forgotten my breast-stroke by to-morrow. I do believe if we hadn’t found you, Judith, we should never have stepped on to the ice at all. We should just have looked at it and faded gracefully back to London. We are so _very_ silly.’ He sat down to take off his boots, and began whistling--then burst out singing: ‘There were three sillies Who stood like lilies----’ A pause-- ‘Refusing to spin----’ Another pause-- ‘Crying, Hey, Lackaday! The ice will give way, And we shall fall in----’ He pulled off his boots; and finished: ‘If Miss Earle they’d not met They’d be standing there yet.’ ‘Pretty poor,’ cried Julian. ‘Oh, I think it’s awfully good,’ said Judith. Charlie bowed, and said: ‘I can do more like that.’ ‘Go on, then.’ ‘Not now. Pouf! I’m tired.’ He looked it. Save for the bright flush on each cheek his pallor was startling. His eyes looked dark in their shadowy rings, and he leaned back against Mariella while she gravely fastened his shoes and buttoned up his coat. When she put on his muffler he dragged it off again, crying: ‘Oh, Mariella. _No!_ I’m so hot.’