HOW A RACE ENDED.
"THEN you'll be at my house as soon after nine as you can to-morrow, Robert?"
"I never said I would come. Besides, if we don't get more frost to-night, the ice won't be safe to skate on."
"But we shall; it's freezing hard now. The fact is, you don't want to come; you're afraid of being found out."
A burning blush overspread Robert Grainger's face.
"Ah! I thought as much," said Jack Turner, with a sneer. "Poor little thing! It's a pity it couldn't be tied to its mother's apron-strings, then she'd always see what her pretty dear was about."
"You've no cause to say that, Jack. Mother's always willing enough to let us have pleasure. You know it's only because my uncle was drowned that father and she can't bear the idea of any of their children skating. I'm sure if one's careful, there isn't any danger. But they can't get over their nervousness, and that's why I don't want it to come to mother's ears that I've been learning to skate."
"Well, it needn't."
"We can't be certain of that. The last time we were on the lake in Regent's Park, Katie saw me. She didn't think it was I—she thought it was somebody just like me, and of course I didn't undeceive her."
Jack gave a low whistle.