"And yet he had no idea of it," said Bess. "He meant to say something very kind, and we ought to find out what people really mean, before we judge them. I don't believe that, except for Rob, one of the boys would give up as much for your sake as Sam, in spite of his long words and queer grammar. But come, we have our book to finish before bedtime."
January and February had come and gone with but little snow, and no cold weather. But from the very first day March seemed determined to make amends for this neglect. A week of cold, clear weather brought glorious skating, and the boys revelled in it. After a day or two of the sport, Rob, Ted, and Phil put their heads together, and, as a result of their planning, one fine moonlight evening the trio appeared to Bess, who was comfortably toasting her toes and holding Fuzz, while she read aloud to Fred.
"Cousin Bess!" exclaimed Rob, breaking in on this cosy scene, "just drop that old book and come with us! Fred doesn't want you half as much as we do."
"Do come," echoed Phil persuasively. "It is splendid skating, and we want you to come, too."
"But I don't know how to skate," demurred Bess, with an affectionate glance at the fire.
"It's high time you did, at your age," said Rob saucily. "And it's no use to beg off, ma'am, for I know you have some skates, even if you don't know how to use them."
"Yes, we'll teach you," added Ted. "It's fine to-night, and we want you to go like thunder—oh!" And he had the grace to blush over his last word.
"But my skates are dull," pleaded Bessie.
"We've had them sharpened," said Phil, triumphantly dangling them before her eyes. "Sha'n't she go, Fred?"
Now Fred did want to hear the rest of the story, instead of passing a lonely evening. For a moment his face clouded, but a sudden thought came to him, that such a feeling was unworthy the hero he was trying to be, and he said bravely,—