What maiden wouldn't? John glanced at his watch. The paper wagon was due in five minutes.
"I've got to run," he said hastily. "See you tonight!" He left on the dogtrot for the corner.
His school books eyed him reproachfully as he hunted for his skate straps after supper. An arithmetic test impended, and he had a composition to write. Nevertheless, he disregarded both tasks serenely and called for his lady. With her skates swinging with his over one shoulder, they started for the park.
"Ever been skating before?" he asked casually as he took hold of her arm that she might pass a slippery bit of walk in safety.
Louise shook her head. "Once a mud puddle froze in front of the house where I used to live, and I got a broom and tried. That's all."
Then, for an instant, John regretted the invitation. To teach an absolute novice, no matter what the age, to skate with a passable degree of security is no light task. But his hesitation vanished, ten minutes later, when he fastened her skates on and helped her through the doorway of the warming house. It is no unpleasant thing for a small boy's best girl to cling to his arm as did his when they walked, oh so cautiously, down the skate-chopped steps from the boat landing.
As they stepped out on the slippery ice, Louise made a last, despairing grab for the step rail.
"You go on and skate, Johnny," she pleaded. "I'll just stay here for a while."