"Skate?--I should say so. Frank and I are going out this afternoon after the bank closes."

"Oh, Marian, couldn't I go, too? Mother said I might learn if I only had some grown up person to go with."

"But you haven't any skates, Jane."

This was a poser, but Jane moved a way out. "Maybe Grace Dart would let me have hers. May I ask Mother?"

Marian hesitated a moment, but the child's face was very pleading and she replied heartily:

"Come along if your mother will let you. We'll look after you--you may as well ask Katie and Gertie, too. Katy knows how to skate a little, I think."

Mrs. Morton's consent was soon obtained as well as Mrs. Halford's. Grace Dart intended to use her own skates, but Mrs. Morton said Jane might as well buy a pair, if she were really going to learn. Marian volunteered to get them for her on the way down.

Chicken Little was gay as a robin redbreast when she ran to meet Marian at the side gate. She was in red from top to toe, red coat, red leggings and red hood. And she was so excited she acted like a much distracted robin, as Marian told her a little later.

"She does enter into things so heart and soul," Marian confided to Frank, "she fairly quivers with excitement sometimes. Katy and Gertie are so different. They enjoy themselves just as much but they don't tire themselves out as Chicken Little does."

"Sis is too high strung, I guess--gets it from Father's people. Funny, too, she's a sober little puss a good deal of the time."

The new skates were soon purchased and slung over her shoulder in exact imitation of the way she had seen the boys carry theirs. They looked delightfully sharp and glittering. Chicken Little felt immensely superior to Katy whose skates were two years old and not nearly so shiny.

It was a radiant afternoon, frosty and clear. The pond was covered with skaters of all ages. Some of the men were pulling women and children on sleds.

Frank strapped the little girls' skates on firmly. Katy struck off boldly for herself, while Marian helped Gertie. Frank undertook to keep Chicken Little from measuring her length on the ice--no small task for the child was ambitious and daring. Great was her joy when she finally succeeded in taking a few short strokes without having her feet shoot out from under her. Presently Frank left her to her own devices while he went to skate with Marian.

"My feet don't seem to want to go the same way I do," she complained to Gertie after two hard b.u.mps.

Gertie was proceeding more cautiously and had fewer falls in consequence.

"I guess you'll learn pretty soon--my--just see Katy!"

Katy was circling around as gracefully and easily as if there were no such thing as falls to dread. Chicken Little began to lose faith in the superiority of her new skates.

"Katy skates most as well as the boys--I don't see how she does it," she said enviously.

"Cousin Sim taught her last winter. Oh, see, those boys are making an eight on the ice and,--Carol's writing his name I do believe."

"Yes, and there's Pat and Mike--dear me, it seems as if everybody can skate just as easy 'cept me."

The little girls stood watching the boys wistfully as they glided along cutting marvellous figures on the ice. The boys were bent on showing off for Marian's benefit.

"Tired, little girls?" called the latter, skating gaily past, her cheeks rosy with exercise and the frosty air.

"No--o," said Jane slowly, "I'm not tired but my ankles hurt and the ice seems to get slipprier and slipprier."

"I'll help you if you want me to," said a voice at her elbow, and Chicken Little looked around to find Pat Casey standing shyly beside her, cap in hand.

"I think I could be after showing you how to do it."

She hesitated a moment wondering what her mother would say to her skating with Pat, then deciding to take the chance, put out her hand with a little smile. Things went better after that for the Irish lad had a good deal of chivalry in his make-up and was very patient and careful.

"h.e.l.lo, Pat," said Frank, skating up. "That's good of you--I believe you're a better teacher than I was. You'll skate like a bird in no time, Sis, you're so light. Ice is tricky at first--throws you like a balky horse till you get the hang of it. Come on, I'll take you for another turn."

Frank took her spinning with him clear to the end of the pond. When they started back he made her strike out for herself, steadying her with his hand. Before they got back to the big bon-fire at the starting point, Chicken Little had discovered the all-important secret of keeping her balance.

Ernest and Carol came up in great excitement to tell them there were going to be races and the spectators must line up along the sides of the pond.

"See they are starting now--you must be careful to keep off the track, girls. Here, let's go over by that rock."

Frank made haste to post his small charges midway of the course, where they could have a clear view of both ends of the pond.

Six young men lined up at the starting point while the starter stood off to one side to give the signal and another man was posted at the farther end of the course.

"One, two, three--go!"

The starter snapped the words out and the men swung off in long steady strides. Faster and faster they came till it seemed to Chicken Little they fairly flew. She watched them closely as they came nearer--there seemed something familiar about one of the racers. Suddenly she gave a little shriek of surprise.

"Why, it's Mr. Harding--see, see! It is Mr. Harding. Oh, I just hope he'll beat! Don't you think he'll beat, Frank?"

"He is a good skater, all right, Sis, but that dark chap is going it strong, too. They have to make the circuit of the pond three times. We can tell better the next lap."

d.i.c.k Harding heard Jane's exclamation and waved his hand at her as they swung by. He was about six feet behind the dark man, skating easily with long swinging strokes. Chicken Little waved her red mittened hand enthusiastically in return.

Carol and Ernest, who had been trying to follow the racers along the edge of the pond, pulled up along side for a breathing spell.

"Say, Frank," exclaimed Ernest, "they say that dark fellow is a professional skater--his name is Sanders."

"Yes, and Sherm says he's tricky--he has just come here from some place up on the lakes," added Carol.

"I'm afraid he has Harding outcla.s.sed," replied Frank watching the racers circle gracefully around the end of the pond and start toward them again. The dark stranger was in the lead and Harding a couple of lengths behind, with the other four spilling out at irregular distances in the rear.

"He keeps crowding Harding out--do you see? He cuts across his path every now and then, but part of the time he only makes a feint so Harding loses a stroke and he doesn't. I don't think that's fair!"

Ernest raised his voice indignantly.

Frank watched them a moment keenly before he replied.

"You're right--that is what he is doing--and it isn't clean sport. He's tricky--I'd like to see Harding beat him; but I'm afraid he can't. He's soft yet for we haven't had more than two week's skating here, and this chap has probably been at it for two months or more up north."

"Oh, Frank, isn't he skating fair? Do you think he's going to beat Mr.

Harding?" Chicken Little was genuinely distressed.

"Can't tell, Chicken, watch and see!"

The racers turned the end of the pond for the second time and came swiftly past--Harding about the same distance behind the other as before. Again they turned and shot past for the third round, the stranger still pursuing his tactics of interfering with his rival.

"Jove, that makes me hot!" Frank exclaimed wrathfully. "I believe Harding could beat him on a fair and square race."

"Gee, I wish we could make him give way once himself, the scoundrel!"

Ernest shook his fist viciously at Sanders' back.