"Perhaps it isn't safe," replied Frank. "No one seems to venture so far; I shouldn't wonder if the ice were thin."
"But our weight would be nothing on such a great space," urged Dolly. "I don't mean far off, only just beyond the point."
Mother's words came back to her, but mother did not know. She was not there to see how beautiful it all was, and of course Dolly did not mean to run into danger.
They began skating near the point. Again Dolly turned towards the terrace.
"Oh, Frank! I must," she said. "I see a long icicle like a sword with a hilt; it's on a low branch—you can reach it for me." She sped away, and Frank followed. In a moment they were side by side, and close to the coveted icicle. As Frank raised himself to grasp it, he saw a thin stream of water welling up from beneath the ice on to the bank. He seized Dolly's hand. "Back, back!" he cried wildly. "The ice is giving, we shall go in." Away they fled. The ice creaked, but their weight was light, and once more the point was gained in safety.
"Dolly," said Ralph, hurrying up to his sister, "have you forgotten what mother said?"
"No," replied Dolly, trying to laugh, though really ready to cry after the fright she had undergone; "but mother isn't here to see the icicles. I wanted one for her, and—"
"We are on our honor," said Ralph, "and I trusted you too, when you went off with Frank."
Dolly's tears began to fall. "I won't tell tales of you," said Ralph. "Perhaps I am partly to blame, I ought not to have left you. Come and skate with me, now."
"I don't want to. I'll go home," said Dolly.