"Oh, but," exclaimed Joe Pearce, who had been listening with all the eagerness of twelve years old, "it swells water to freeze it, Uncle Josh."
"So it does, so it does. But I never heard of a swell like that." And Uncle Josh—for he was uncle to all the small boys in the village—shook his fat sides with laughter, but it was not all about the remarkable ice, for his next question was, "But, Billy, you've put all your skating on one foot. How's that?"
"'Cause it's all in one skate."
"Well, it's big enough. Why don't you divide it, and give the other foot a fair share?"
"I've put mine on the other foot," shouted Joe, trying to balance himself on one leg and hold up an uncommonly large skate for inspection.
How those skates were strapped on! They were even steadied with pieces of rope, and had bits of wood and leather stuffed in under the straps to make them fit.
"You see, Uncle Josh," explained Billy, "my brother Bob he went away to college, and left his skates, 'cause, he said, the college was out of ice this winter. And Joe Pearce he didn't have any. And Christmas forgot to give me any. And so we divided 'em, and took the sled, and we're going to the big pond."
"That was fair. Only you haven't divided the sled."
"The sled won't divide," said Joe, with a solemn shake of his curly head; "but I'd like to divide my skate with my other foot."
"I'll tell you what, boys," suddenly exclaimed Uncle Josh, "let's have a little Christmas of our own."