Then all at once a bright idea flashed into Dick's mind. To-morrow would be Saturday, and school holiday. He would put a gimlet in his pocket, go to Lord Bentford's lake, which by now was bearing, and try to earn a few coppers by putting on the gentlefolks' skates. He would not breathe one word of his intention to any one; no, not even to his mother. So he went supperless to bed that night, full of hope for the success of his new venture on the morrow.
[CHAPTER VII.]
A GALLANT RESCUE.
JUMPING out of bed early next morning, Dick dressed himself in haste and went downstairs. It did not take him long to sweep the kitchen, dust it, and kindle a bright fire; and by the time that Mrs. Wilkins, Molly, and the twins put in their appearance, the table-cloth was laid and the kettle was singing cheerily.
The Wilkins's repast that morning was a poor, poor meal, and Dick did not stop long over it. Before half-past nine, he set out, gimlet in pocket, for Lord Bentford's lake.
Although he was early in getting there, he found at least two dozen skaters already arrived. It had been freezing hard all night, and the ice was in excellent condition—as smooth as a sheet of glass.
"Blest if there isn't Widow Wilkins's youngster setting up in opposition to us, Bill!" exclaimed a rough-looking idler to an equally rough-looking companion.
The two men were standing on the edge of the lake, whither they had come to earn a few shillings by putting on people's skates, an employment needing but little exertion. Turning a scowling countenance upon the child, the speaker then asked with an oath,—
"What's your charge, young professional? Penny a pair, eh? And chain the gentlefolks' attention whilst that sharp-nosed retriever of yours makes off with a rabbit from the plantation hard by."
Dick started and looked round quickly.