Mrs. Miller looked doubtfully at her husband. Ned foresaw surrender, and with a hug and a kiss he won her over.
“Then I may! May I? I may—may I? Mother, you’re just as good as you can be! And if you’ll give me a quarter I can get some oyster soup at Newton. Hal and Tom will. You see, we ought to have something warm, and oyster soup is dandy when a fellow’s empty.”
“Ask your father,” bade his mother, roguishly. “I’ve furnished the permission, and he’ll have to furnish the quarter.”
And it seemed to Ned that his mother had come out rather ahead, in the bargain.
It was not such a tremendously long skate upon which the boys started Saturday morning. In a straight line it would be only twelve miles, but by the bending river, and by the extra strokes that they would make in picking out the best patches of ice, it would be nearer fifteen. So down and back, it must be figured as thirty miles—only, the “back” was to seem twenty times longer than the “down”!
Hal called for Ned, and together they made for the levee, where they were to meet Tom. Ned thought that he had done the feat of slipping off without Bob’s seeing him. Bob was a very able dog, in the water; but on the water he was of very little use whatsoever. If in a boat, he became seasick; and if on ice, he slipped and slid.
When the boys arrived at the levee they found there not only Tom but also Zu-zu and a girl friend of hers.
“Why, you aren’t going, are you, Zu-zu?” asked Ned, in surprise.
“No—but I would if mamma’d let me,” replied Zu-zu, tossing her head. “I could skate that far as easy as not.”