“The back cross-roll now,” continued Dick, still addressing his son. “You must cross your feet well!”
He began to illustrate it.
“Ah, my toe caught then,” he said. “But you see the idea. Foot well behind, well across. H’m! I must have a bit taken off the toes. There, that’s better, isn’t it, Hugh! That would do for the Olympians, wouldn’t it? I think that is the hardest part of the test!”
Hugh had not yet asked his brother-in-law to lunch with them. He simply could not interrupt yet. He did not know Dick could be so gorgeous. And he led him on.
“Yes, that’s ripping,” he said. “Why didn’t you come and be judged with us this morning? Oh, I forgot; you don’t want to join the English rink. Yes, awfully good, that was.”
Dick walked straight into the trap.
“Then there is the three, isn’t there, on each foot?” he asked. “My left foot bothers me rather. Will you just look?”
He executed this in a slightly diffuse manner. “Would that pass, do you think?” he asked.
The trap closed behind him.
“I think it wants a little more practice,” said Hugh. “When are you going to come up?”