This effectually turned the conversation away from Jeffreys, and the subject was not recurred to that evening, except just when Scarfe was bidding his mother good-night in her boudoir.

"I hope you won't be dull here," said she. "Miss Atherton seems a pleasant girl, but it is a pity Percy is not older and more of a companion."

"Oh, I shall enjoy myself," said Scarfe.

"You don't seem very fond of that Mr Jeffreys."

"No, I draw the line somewhere, mother," said the son.

"What do you mean? Is there anything discreditable about him? He looks common and stupid, to be sure. Mrs Rimbolt tells me Percy is greatly taken up with him."

"They appear to have curious ideas about the kind of companion they choose for their boy," said Scarfe. "But it's no business of ours.

Good-night, mother."

And he went, leaving Mrs Scarfe decidedly mystified.

Jeffreys and Scarfe occasionally met during the next few days. Jeffreys was rather relieved to find that his late schoolfellow seemed by no means anxious to recall an old acquaintance or to refer to Bolsover. He could even forgive him for falling into the usual mode of treating the librarian as an inferior. It mattered little enough to him, seeing what Scarfe already knew about him, what he thought of him at Wildtree. On the whole, the less they met and the less they talked together, the less chance was there of rousing bitter memories. The Scarfes would hardly remain more than a month. If for that time he could efface himself, the danger might blow over, and he might be left at the end of the time with the secret of his bad name still safe at Wildtree Towers.

Kennedy's prophecy of a hard frost turned out to have been a knowing one. All through Christmas week it continued with a severity rare even in that mountainous region; and when on New Year's Day the report reached Wildtree that a man had skated across the upper end of Wellmere it was admitted to be a frost which, to the younger generation of the place at least, "beat record."

Percy was particularly enthusiastic, and terrified his mother by announcing that he meant to skate across Wellmere, too. Raby, though less ambitious, was equally keen for the ice; and Scarfe, indolently inclined as he was, was constrained to declare himself also anxious to put on his skates.

A day was lost owing to the fact that Percy's skates, which had lain idle for two years, were now too small for him and useless.

Mrs Rimbolt devoutly hoped the ironmonger in Overstone would have none to fit him, and used the interval in intriguing right and left to stop the projected expedition.

She represented to her husband that the head gardener was of opinion that the frost had reached its height two days ago. She discovered that Scarfe had a cold, to which exposure might be disastrous. Raby she peremptorily forbade to dream of the ice; and as for Percy, she conjured him by the love he bore her to skate on nothing deeper than the Rodnet Marsh, whereat that young gentleman gibed. The Overstone ironmonger had skates which fitted the boy to a nicety, and by way of business sent up "on inspection" a pair which Mr Rimbolt might find useful for himself.

"You surely will not allow Percy to go?" said the lady to her husband, on the morning after the arrival of the skates.

"Why not? He's a good skater, and we don't often have a frost."

"But on Wellmere! Think of the danger!"

"I often skated across Wellmere when I was a boy. I would not object to do it again if I had the time to spare. I declare the sight of the skates tempted me."

"I don't believe Mr Scarfe can swim. What would happen if there were an accident?"

"I think you overrate the danger," said her husband; "however, if it pleases you, I will get Jeffreys to go with them. He can swim, and I dare say he can skate, too."

Mrs Rimbolt shied a little at the suggestion, but yielded to it as a compromise, being better than nothing.

Jeffreys would fain have evaded this unexpected service.

"I have no skates," he said, when Mr Rimbolt proposed it.

"Yes; the ironmonger sent up a pair for me, and as I can't use them you are welcome to them."

"Did you not want the books from Sotheby's collated before to-morrow?"

"No, Sat.u.r.day will do. Honestly, Jeffreys, I would be more comfortable, so would Mrs Rimbolt, if you went. We have experience of the care you take of Percy. So, you see, I ask a favour."

It was useless to hold out.

"I will go," said he; and it was settled.

An hour later Scarfe, Percy, Jeffreys, and Julius stood at the hall door ready to start.

"Where's Raby, I say?" cried Percy; "she said she'd come."

"I do not wish Raby to go."

"Oh, look here, mother, as if we couldn't look after her; eh, Scarfe?"

"It will be no pleasure without Miss Atherton," said Scarfe.

"Can't she come, father?" said Percy, adroitly appealing to Caesar.

"I really think it would be a pity she should miss the fun."

"Huzzah! Raby, where are you? Look sharp! father says you can come, and we're waiting!" cried Percy.

Raby, who had been watching the party rather wistfully, did not keep them long waiting.

Wellmere was a large lake some five miles long and a mile across. In times of frost it not unfrequently became partially frozen, but owing to the current of the river which pa.s.sed through it, it seldom froze so completely as to allow of being traversed on skates. This, however, was an extraordinary frost, and the feat of the adventurer on New Year's Day had been several times repeated already.

The Wildtree party found the ice in excellent order, and the exhilarating sensation of skimming over the gla.s.sy surface banished for the time all the unpleasant impressions of the walk. It was several years since Jeffreys had worn skates, but he found that five minutes was sufficient to render him at home on the ice. He eschewed figures, and devoted himself entirely to straightforward skating, which, as it happened, was all that Percy could accomplish--all, indeed, that he aspired too.

It therefore happened naturally that Scarfe and Raby, who cultivated the eccentricities of skating, were left to their own devices, while Jeffreys, accompanied of course by Julius, kept pace with his young hero for the distant sh.o.r.e. It was a magnificent stretch. The wind was dead, the ice was perfect, and their skates were true and sharp.

"Isn't this grand?" cried Percy, all aglow, as they scudded along, far outstripping the perplexed Julius. "Better than smoking cigarettes, eh, old Jeff?"

Jeffreys accepted this characteristic tender of reconciliation with a thankful smile.

"I was never on such ice!" said he.

"Looks as if it couldn't thaw, doesn't it?" said Percy.

"It's better here in the middle than nearer the sh.o.r.e. I hope those two won't get too near the river, it looks more shaky there."

"Trust Scarfe! He knows what's what! I say, aren't he and Raby spoons?"

"Mind that log of wood. It must be pretty shallow here," said Jeffreys, his face glowing with something more than the exercise.

They made a most successful crossing. Returning, a slight breeze behind them favoured their progress, and poor Julius had a sterner chase than ever.

As they neared their starting-point Jeffreys looked about rather anxiously for Scarfe and Raby, who, tiring of their fancy skating, had started on a little excursion of their own out into the lake.

"I wish they wouldn't go that way," said he, as he watched them skimming along hand-in-hand; "it may be all right, but the current is sure to make the ice weaker than out here."