"What, already?" cried Rose. "Why, how cold you look! I'm most beautifully warm. You don't want me to go with you, do you?" she asked.
"Oh no," Mavis replied, "certainly not. I don't think I've got on badly. But I can't skate fast enough to keep warm like you, and my feet are so cold, there's no feeling in them. Otherwise I should like to stay and look on."
Rose nodded, and skimmed away over the ice. Whilst Mavis left the meadow by the gateway, and turned into the road leading to the village, through which she had to pass on her way home, walking briskly to get herself warm.
It was a perfect winter afternoon. The sun was sinking rosily in the western sky, and the keen, frosty air was most invigorating. Mavis had enjoyed the day; but she sighed, and her pretty face grow grave as she thought of those to whom frost meant only added misery, and she felt glad that there were no extremely poor people in W—.
"I don't suppose there's any one in the place who hasn't enough to eat," she reflected. "For I heard uncle say last night that the villagers were very well looked after; they get coal-tickets, and they belong to blanket clubs, and they have good homes."
She had reached the village by this time, and was passing the post-office when the Vicar came out, followed by his dog. A smile lit up Mr. Moseley's kindly countenance as his eyes fell on the little girl.
"All alone?" he said. "How is that?"
"I got so very cold on the ice that I thought I'd go home," Mavis explained, as she patted Max. "I only began to learn to skate to-day, and I grew very tired."
"Naturally. You are warmer now?"
"Oh yes, thank you. I have been walking fast. Max is very pleased to see me, isn't he?"