_The P.S._ (_disgustedly_). Wot?--on'y two bloomin' browns fur tykin' the skites orf them two kids' trotters! I want a shellin' orf o' you fur that job, _I_ do ... "Not another penny"? Well, if you do everythink as cheap as you do yer skiting, you orter be puttin' money by, _you_ ought! That's right, tyke them snivellin' kids 'ome--blast me if ever I--&c, &c, &c. [_Exit party, pursued by powerful metaphors._ _The Egotistic Skater_ (_in charge of a small Niece_). Just see if you can get along by yourself a little--I'll come back presently. Practise striking out. _The Niece_. But, Uncle, directly I strike out, I fall down! _The E.S._ (_encouragingly_). You will at first, till you get into it--gives you confidence. Keep on at it--don't stand about, or you'll catch cold. I shall be keeping my eye on you! [_Skates off to better ice._ _The Fancy Skater_ (_to less accomplished Friend_). This is a pretty figure--sort of variation of the "Cross Cut," ending up with "The Vine;" it's done this way (_illustrating_), quarter of circle on outside edge forwards; then sudden stop--(_He sits down with violence_.) Didn't quite come off that time! _The Friend_. The sudden stop came off right enough, old fellow! _The F.S._ I'll show you again--it's really a neat thing when it's well done; you do it all on one leg, like this-- [_Executes an elaborate back-fall._ _His Friend_. You seem to do most of it on no legs at all, old chap! _The F.S._ Haven't practised it lately, that's all. Now here's a figure I invented myself. "The Swooping Hawk" I call it. _His Friend_ (_unkindly--as the F.S. comes down in the form of a St. Andrew's Cross_). Y-yes. More like a Spread Eagle though, ain't it? _A Pretty Girl_ (_to Mr. ACKMEY, who has been privileged to take charge of herself and her plain Sister_). Do come and tell me if I'm doing it right, Mr. ACKMEY. You _said_ you'd go round with me! _The Plain S._ How can you be so _selfish_, FLORRIE? You've had ever so much more practice than _I_ have! Mr. ACKMEY, I wish you'd look at my left boot--it _will_ go like that. Is it my ankle--or what? And this strap _is_ hurting me so! Couldn't you loosen it, or take me back to the man, or something? FLORRIE can get on quite well alone, can't she? _Mr. A._ (_temporising feebly_). Er--suppose I give _each_ of you a hand, eh? _The Plain S._ No; I can't go along fast, like you and LAURA. You promised to look after me, and I'm perfectly helpless alone! _The Pretty S._ Then, am I to go by myself, Mr. ACKMEY? _Mr. A._ I--I think--just for a little, if you don't mind! _The Pretty S._ Mind? Not a bit! There's CLARA WILLOUGHBY and her brother on the next ring, I'll go over to them. Take good care of ALICE, Mr. ACKMET. Good-bye for the present. [_She goes; ALICE doesn't think Mr. A. is "nearly so nice as he used to be."_