By now Ellen must have recognized him. The figure was unmistakable—slight, rather stiff and incredibly neat, even to the carefully pressed line of his trousers. In place of a warm skating cap he wore a Fedora hat pulled over his ears to prevent the wind, which had reddened his smooth face, from blowing it astray. The man was Clarence Murdock. Ellen might have permitted him to pass unnoticed, save that in the next moment he came round the willows and, tottering upon his skates, stood face to face with her.
For a moment he stared at her silently, with the air of one who cannot believe his senses.
“Well?” said Ellen, rising to her feet slowly.
Clarence shook himself, balancing more and more perilously on his skates. “I didn’t know you were here,” he began. “I didn’t see you.”
“I wasn’t there,” replied Ellen, indicating the direction of the round pond. “I’ve been skating here all afternoon.... You look cold. Wait, I’ll poke up the fire. I was going home, but I’m in no hurry.”
Once his astonishment had passed away, his manner assumed a certain calm; it appeared even that he experienced a relief in finding her there among the willows. He began to rub his ears vigorously while the fire, beneath the proddings of Ellen and the addition of more fuel, sprang into a blaze. It crackled cheerily and sent a bright shower of sparks heavenward. Within its glow Clarence, extending his hands toward the warmth, seated himself. He was more calm now, as if the quiet, capable directness of the girl had quieted his anxiety.
There was a long silence and presently Ellen asked, “Where’s May?” But all the answer she received was a nod of the head indicating the round pond that lay beyond the hill. Again the silence enveloped them.
“It’s fine skating,” said Ellen, in another attempt at conversation. “The best there has been this winter.” (It was clear that she could not say she had heard him talking to himself.)
“It is,” replied her companion, thoughtfully, “but I can’t skate very well. It’s been a long time....”
The girl was slipping on her skates once more with an air which said, “If you won’t talk then I’ll skate, at least until you warm yourself.” She slipped to the edge of the ice and glided away, but she did not go any great distance. She circled about, gracefully, with a sure strength which carried an air of defiance, as if she sought to show Mr. Murdock how well it could be done. She pirouetted and did difficult figures with all the grace of a soaring bird. Indeed, she should have been to Clarence Murdock an intolerable spectacle. But she was not insufferable; on the contrary she clearly inspired him with a profound wonder. He watched her with a concentration approached only by that which he had given to his own efforts in the same direction. To observe her more clearly, he had put on his nose glasses and, beneath their neatly polished surface, his near-sighted eyes grew bright with admiration. Presently as she approached the shore in a sudden graceful swoop, he stirred himself and said, “You skate beautifully.... I wonder if you could help me.”