"Give me my skates, please. I want to get them on at once. Doesn't the ice look too lovely for anything?
"It's not a question of what it looks like, but of what it will bear." He stepped on to the edge. It gave an ominous crack. I daresay, if he had waited, long enough, it would have given way beneath him. But he did not. He hopped back on to the solid ground. "You see!"
"Excuse me, but that is exactly what I do not do. Here it is under the shadow of the trees. Besides, the water is so shallow that it is practically cat's ice. I'm sure it's all right a little further round and in the middle. It's often cracky near the edge."
"I am sure it is not safe anywhere."
"Will you please give me my skates, Mr Sanford?"
He looked at me. So as to let him see that I had no intention of being cowed, I looked back at him.
"I hope that, this once, you will be advised. I assure you it is unsafe."
"Please give me my skates."
He laughed, in that queer way he had of laughing at unexpected moments, when there certainly seemed nothing to laugh at.
"Good. Then it is decided. We will both go skating."