So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once to use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement for the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as skating with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection might have shown her how much more annoying the privation would be rendered by the sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which he was debarred. It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon against her as a fault that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of anything so “boyish,” and had long ago entreated her to be more like a young lady. There was no positive order in this case, and her papa and mamma did not object. So she eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was gliding merrily on the surface of the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins watched her dexterity with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his complaints. At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own security to bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a quarter of an hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising to the pitch where consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred. “How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never mind, Fred, the post must go some time or other.” “It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an hour!” “Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in the midst of her next circular sweep she chanted-- “Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that any reason why I should be drowned?” It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh, nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys. “What news of Uncle Geoffrey?” “I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle Roger went to him there.” “No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred. “Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most provoking face of wonder and curiosity. “Presently,” said Fred. “He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious, though it was only rude. “Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what they pleased.