For more than a year he had visited the Crescent Skating Rink in the heart of the city whenever opportunity offered. There during the past winter he had come in contact with an operatic star, who, seeing his grace and expertness, and herself being an enthusiastic novice at the sport, had asked him to teach her. It seemed that roller-skating had become a fad with a certain opera company that was playing in Hathaway, and the boy’s marvelous performances had aroused the interest of all of them, after the first lady of the troupe had smiled upon him. One thing led to another, and, though the troupe had long since left the city, Joshua’s services were still in demand by novices who wished to learn to skate. Being only a boy, and in school a greater part of the time at that, the owners of the rink had not offered him a position as instructor. But they encouraged him and allowed him to take tips from those who asked for his help.
To the Crescent Rink the boys now betook themselves, and the ticket-taker passed them in free, for Lester had often accompanied his brother. Lester sat in the spectators’ gallery brooding over his trouble, while Joshua put on a pair of skates and glided out on the floor, the envy of the awkward skaters already assembled. Before long Joshua had a pupil, and after half an hour he had a tip of twenty-five cents. Then his charge left the rink, and he sought new fields.
He glided gracefully about the floor, on the alert for some one who wished to be taught, and as he made the second round his eyes alighted upon a girl with reddish-golden hair, who, unaided by an escort, was putting on her skates. Joshua executed a long curve and swept up beside her.
“Le’me help you,” he offered, and bent on one knee before her.
He heard a girlish giggle of bashfulness and looked up into reddish-brown eyes that matched the hair.
And then, for love strikes quick and sure to the heart of a red-blooded boy, Joshua Cole knew that his eyes beheld the most glorious creature in all the world, and something came up in his throat and nearly choked him. It was as sudden and unexpected as a blow between the eyes.
CHAPTER IV
THE GYPO QUEEN
JOSHUA’S fingers fumbled with the straps of the roller-skates, and his ears felt hot. Girls had meant little to him. There had been a couple or more mild affairs, but the flame had died down within a day or two. This was different. In the winking of an eyelash Joshua Cole was head over heels in love. And how it hurt!
At last there remained no further excuse for him to keep on bended knee before her. The skates were adjusted; he must needs stand up and face those deadly eyes again. Like unto an Oriental topaz was their color, and her hair was bronze and hung down her back in a long, thick rope. He struggled to his feet at last, and, miserable beyond measure, lifted his eyes. He found that the long, reddish lashes were hiding hers and that the pink of May blossoms was in her cheeks. They were brown, too, those cheeks, and the pink blended with the brown to form a color combination utterly bewildering. He thought that the skin of Pocahontas must have looked like that—just why he could not have said.
“Ye’re all fixed now, I guess,” he mumbled in crackling tones. “C’n you skate?”