A little boy of about eight, in shabby coat and broken shoes, had come into the park and, behind him, drawn by a rope, was a sled. Stopping a moment to survey the ground, the boy lifted the sled, ran a few steps, flung himself upon it, and coasted along the path, slowing down close to where they stood.
Dick Brown looked at the youngster as he lay happily sprawling on his stomach, and then turned to Hertha. "And I've lived for twenty-five years without a chance at that!"
"It's never too late to learn," she suggested.
He thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out a nickel. "Say," he said, calling to the boy who was starting off, "Gimme a ride!"
The youngster grinned derisively. "What 'er givin' me?" he asked, and slid away on the path.
Brown ran after him. "I'm giving you this," he answered and produced the nickel.
This altered the situation. The boy looked a little doubtfully at his sled and at the tall young man beside him, but, financial gain outweighing distrust, he took the money and handed over his property. "Go a little easy," he said, "it ain't yer size."
The man from Georgia eyed the bit of board on runners and then looked down at his long overcoat, his gloved hands, his highly polished shoes. Suddenly he felt very foolish. He glanced up at Hertha who was standing some rods away watching.
Moved by an impulse of mischief, she ran over to where he was. "I'm waiting to see you do it," she said. "It's perfectly easy, isn't it?" turning to the boy.
"I bet you two are dagoes," the youngster said by way of answer. "Dagoes don't know any more about snow 'n the fleas they bring wid 'em. Say, mister, this sled ain't your fit. Why don't you give your girl a ride?"