The arrangement proved entirely satisfactory so long as Mittie paused on every other round to rest or to get him to adjust a strap, or to hold her hat, but when Ben Schenk arrived on the scene, the situation was materially changed. It was sufficiently irritating to see Ben go through an exhaustive exhibition of his accomplishments under the admiring glances of Mittie, but when he condescended to ask her to skate, and even offered to teach her some new figures, Joe's irritation rose to ire. In vain he tried to catch her eye; she was laughing and clinging to Ben and giving all her attention to his instructions. Joe sat sullen and indignant, savagely biting his nails. He would have parted with everything he had in the world at that moment for three paltry nickels! On and on went the skaters, and on and on went the music, and Joe turned his face to the wall and doggedly waited. When at last Mittie came to him flushed and radiant, he had no word of greeting for her. "Did you see all the new steps Mr. Ben learnt me?" she asked. "Naw," said Joe. "Does yer foot hurt you, Joe?" "Naw," said Joe. Mittie was too versed in masculine moods to press the subject. She waited until they were out under the starlight in the clear stretch of common near home. Then she slipped her hand through his arm and said coaxingly-- "Say now, Joe, what you kickin' 'bout?" "Him," said Joe comprehensively. "Mr. Ben? Why, he's one of our best friends. Maw likes him better'n anybody I ever kept company with. What have all you fellers got against him?" "He was black marveled at the hall all right," said Joe grimly. "What for?" "It ain't none of my business to tell what for," said Joe, though his lips ached to tell what he knew. "Maw says all you fellows are jealous 'cause he talks so pretty and wears such stylish clothes." "We might, too, if we got 'em like he done," Joe began, then checked himself. "Say, Mittie, why don't yer maw like me?" "She says you haven't got any school education and don't talk good grammar." "Don't I talk good grammar?" asked Joe anxiously. "I don't know," said Mittie; "that's what she says. How long did you go to school?" "Me? Oh, off and on 'bout two year. The old man was always poorly, and Maw, she had to work out, till me an' the boys done got big enough to work. 'Fore that I had to stay home and mind the kids. Don't I talk like other fellers, Mittie?" "You talk better than some," said Mittie loyally. After he left her, Joe reviewed the matter carefully. He thought of the few educated people he knew--the boss at the shops, the preacher up on Twelfth Street, the doctor who sewed up his head after he stopped a runaway team, even Ben Schenk, who had gone through the eighth grade. Yes, there was a difference. Being clean and wearing good clothes were not the only things.