Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and Fred was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, hoping it might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take care of himself since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the alarmed expression had come over her face, as she asked Alexander whether his father had looked at the ice. “No,” said Alex, “but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece.” “He is pretty well to be trusted,” said his grandfather, “more especially as it would be difficult to get drowned there.” “I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there,” said Alex. “The travelling man did,” exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard. “Don’t they come in just like the Greek chorus?” said Beatrice, in a whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend to her. “I thought he was drowned in the river,” said Alex. “No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the duckweed grows so rank in summer,” said Carey. Uncle Geoffrey laughed. “I am sorry to interfere with your romantic embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since you are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours.” “I always thought it was there,” said the boy. “And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off.” “I always heard it was at Knight’s Pool,” repeated Carey. “I do not know what you may have heard,” said Uncle Geoffrey; “but as it happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not argue the point.” “Grandpapa,” persisted Carey, “was it not in Knight’s Pool?” “Certainly not,” was the answer drily given. “Well,” continued Carey, “I am sure you might drown yourself there.” “Rather than own yourself mistaken,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction,” said grandmamma, rising and rustling past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced face. “Take your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and stand like a gentleman. Do!” “All in vain!” said Beatrice. “To the end of his life he will maintain that Knight’s Pool drowned the travelling man!” “Well, never mind,” said John, impatiently, “are we coming to skate this morning or are we not?” “I really wish,” said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, “without distrusting either old Knight’s Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that you would ask some one to look at it.”