“I often skated across Wellmere when I was a boy. I would not object to do it again if I had the time to spare. I declare the sight of the skates tempted me.”
“I don’t believe Mr Scarfe can swim. What would happen if there were an accident?”
“I think you overrate the danger,” said her husband; “however, if it pleases you, I will get Jeffreys to go with them. He can swim, and I dare say he can skate, too.”
Mrs Rimbolt shied a little at the suggestion, but yielded to it as a compromise, being better than nothing.
Jeffreys would fain have evaded this unexpected service.
“I have no skates,” he said, when Mr Rimbolt proposed it.
“Yes; the ironmonger sent up a pair for me, and as I can’t use them you are welcome to them.”
“Did you not want the books from Sotheby’s collated before to-morrow?”
“No, Saturday will do. Honestly, Jeffreys, I would be more comfortable, so would Mrs Rimbolt, if you went. We have experience of the care you take of Percy. So, you see, I ask a favour.”
It was useless to hold out.