While Madge was thus making herself miserable, Jessie was making rare progress with her skating. After a few awkward falls and a few bumps and bruises, she learned “the how,” as Guy called it; and then, though still awkward, oh! how joyously she sped across the little pond chasing after Guy and Carrie, and shouting until the welkin rang again.
“Capital fun, isn’t it?” said she, gliding ashore, and sitting down on a stone almost out of breath.
“I call it nice sport for girls,” replied Carrie, pausing on the edge of the bank; “but you aren’t tired yet, are you?”
“Yes, a little. Besides, too much of a good thing, as my uncle says, destroys your relish for it. I guess I’ve skated enough for once,” said Jessie, stooping and unbuckling the straps of her skates.
“Pooh! Jessie’s not half a skater!” rejoined Carrie; “but what has become of your friend Madge?”
“Sure enough! Where is she? I had forgotten all about her.”
But Madge had wandered still farther off, and was nursing her bad feelings in a small grove which skirted the pasture. She was not visible from where the girls and Guy were.
“O Guy! Madge is gone. Won’t you please come and help me find her?” said Jessie, putting on a very long and sorrowful face.
“I’ll call her. She’s not far off, I’ll bet,” replied Guy.
Then placing his hands to his lips as a sort of speaking trumpet, he shouted—