“Ski?” we cry, and now it’s our turn to gasp for breath. “Ski?... Would you really like to learn to ski?”
We can’t believe our ears. Can you imagine this? It just goes to show that you can’t judge any fellow until you get right on the inside of him. If Ronnie was asking us to teach him how to play checkers or blindman’s buff ... but—skiing! Maybe he’s spoofing us.
“Skiing looks like fun,” says Ronnie. “Mother thinks it’s too dangerous, but you fellows don’t seem to get hurt.”
“Naw, of course we don’t,” I replies. “I tell you what you do, Ronnie! You come out with us and we’ll show you how to ski and then, after you know just how to do it, you can surprise your mother! Just imagine the look on her face when she sees you skiing up the hill to the house!”
“Y-yes, I—I can imagine!” falters Ronnie. Then his face takes on a hopeful expression. “I guess she’d feel all right about it when she saw how perfectly safe it was, wouldn’t she?”
“Sure!” declares Mack, slapping Ronnie on the back and almost dropping the egg sack. “Every mother’s that way! Too bad, though, that your old man—I mean—your father—kicked us off the hill.” Mack nudges me and I try to stop him, but he’s got what he thinks is a great idea and he goes on. “I guess you weren’t so crazy to have us on the hill, either. Just the same—it’s the best place around here to learn to ski.”
We’re just at the foot of the hill as Mack says this. It’s the street side of the hill and we’re looking up the steps to the big house on top. Somehow it reminds us of a fort that’s almost lost in the snow. We’re half expecting to hear some words fired out at us from Mr. Turner’s booming voice but we evidently can’t be seen from up above. Ronnie hasn’t said anything yet in answer to Mack’s bold crack about the hill for skiing and I’m thinking to myself that he’s spoiled everything.
“I had the wrong idea about you fellows,” Ronnie suddenly blurts out as we return his groceries. “That’s why I told Dad. He seldom goes out on the back hill. I don’t see how the tracks you’d make in the snow would hurt anything. If you’d like to meet me out there tomorrow afternoon while Dad’s downtown...?”
“Would we?” we all shout.
“I haven’t any skis,” says Ronnie.