They were in the dressing-room, no one else present but Grace and Max.
"I'm pretty thankful myself," observed the latter jocosely, but with a telltale moisture about the eyes; "I shouldn't like to have a sister with a fingerless hand."
"Oh don't, Max! don't talk so!" sobbed Grace, "I just can't bear to think of such dreadful things!"
Her father turned toward her and held out his hand. She sprang to his side and he put his arm about her.
"The danger is happily past, my pet," he said, touching his lips to her cheek; "so dry your eyes and think of something else, something pleasanter."
"You've got enough of skating, I suppose, Lu? you won't want to try it again, will you?" asked Max.
"Yes; if papa will let me. I'd like to go back this afternoon. But I'd want to keep fast hold of him so that I'd be in no danger of falling," she added, looking lovingly into his eyes.
"I'll not let you try it in any other way for some time to come," he said, stroking her hair; "you must become a good deal more proficient in the use of skates before I can again trust you to go alone; especially where there are so many other and more skilful skaters."
"I don't care for that, papa, but will you take me there again this afternoon?"
"We'll see about it when the time comes," he said smiling at her eager tone, and not ill-pleased at this proof of a persevering disposition.