“A little,” she replied, without lifting her glance to his. “I’m just learning.”
And now Joshua Cole did the boldest thing in his life when he asked:
“Du-d’ye want me to teach you?”
A moment’s hesitation, then, with a laugh: “Uh-huh—I don’t care.”
Awkwardly he helped her up on her skates and took her hands. And then they glided out onto the floor. Round and round he guided her, searching desperately for words. Their silence was long and embarrassing, but at last the girl broke it.
“You can skate fine, can’t you? I wish I could, but I’ve not been trying long.”
“I’m pretty good at it, I guess,” he said not proudly. “I never saw you here before. I come lots. Almost every afternoon when school’s out.”
“I’ve not been here often,” she helped on the conversation. “And I don’t go to school.”
“Don’t they make you?”
“No. My mother teaches me. We’re here and there. I live in a camp down by the railroad tracks.”