I could not stand forever in that freezing wind watching the progress of these two romances. Miss Speechless on skates was on my hands, and I had to resume my towing. A blessed moment came when Plumstone Smith rolled up and addressed some graceful nothings to her, upon which she seized his hands and asked him to take her around just once. That just once was lengthened into numberless times, for I slipped noiselessly away to the secluded spot where Miss Veal was airily cutting eights and double eights and other figures. Together we sat on the bank, she in the shelter of her automobile coat smoking a cigarette with me, while we watched the others. Plumstone went by backward, puffing, dragging Miss Speechless after him. A smile crossed my companion's face--you should see Pearl Veal smile!--as she gazed at the spire of smoke that went heavenward from her lips. She looked at me when they had gone by, and somehow we laughed. Mudison and Mrs. Radigan came rolling past us. They swept about and glided back to the secluded corners of the lake. Radigan and Miss Bumpschus came clattering up. They parted while they turned about, and then half-trotted, half-skated toward their end of the ice. "Isn't it a shame that Sally should be tied down to such a poor skater as John," said Miss Veal. But I was not thinking of John and Sally, I was covertly watching Pearl Veal, her rounded cheeks richly colored by the wind, her soft reddish hair fluttering over the top of the upturned collar of fur, her glorious eyes on mine. I was wishing I were a duke or a member of the Stock Exchange or a champagne agent, or something like that. CHAPTER XIV _Exit Plumstone Smith, Jr._