“That is true,” said Margaret. “I will go if Sophia will go with me.”
“There is no use in asking any of them,” said Sydney. “They stand dawdling and looking, till their lips and noses are all blue and red, and they are never up to any fun.”
“I will try as far as that pole first,” said Margaret. “I should not care if they had not swept away all the snow here, so as to make the ice look so grey and slippery.”
“That pole!” said Sydney. “Why, that pole is put up on purpose to show that you must not go there. Don’t you see how the ice is broken all round it? Oh, I know how it is that you are so stupid and cowardly to-day. You’ve lived in Birmingham all your winters, and you’ve never been used to walk on the ice.”
“I am glad you have found that out at last. Now, look—I am really going. What a horrid sensation!” she cried, as she cautiously put down one foot before the other on the transparent floor. She did better when she reached the middle of the river, where the ice had been ground by the skates.
“Now, you would get on beautifully,” said Sydney, “if you would not look at your feet. Why can’t you look at the people, and the trees opposite?”
“Suppose I should step into a hole.”
“There are no holes. Trust me for the holes. What do you flinch so for? The ice always cracks so, in one part or another. I thought you had been shot.”
“So did I,” said she, laughing. “But, Sydney, we are a long way from both banks.”
“To be sure: that is what we came for.”