In order that boredom might not overtake the guests before evening came, a magnificent tea was served from four to six. During the afternoon one could visit the other hotels of the place and usually found some function in progress. We were not expected to breakfast before ten, and the short time that remained before lunch was spent in a walk to the rink, where we would solemnly take a few steps on the ice, murmur, "Not in condition yet," and return to the hotel.
After about a fortnight of this I announced to Frederick that I was going to skate, no matter how far from perfection the ice proved to be.
Frederick was indignant.
"You'll make yourself both conspicuous and unpopular. The two Marriotts are giving an exhibition to-morrow; if you spoil the ice for them their show will be ruined."
"Very well, then," said I, "I will borrow some ski and mess about on the snow."
"You can't do that," he replied, horrified; "the professionals are coming next week for the open competition, and if they don't find clean snow—"
"All right; I'll get one of those grid-irons and course down the ice-run. I suppose that's what the ice-run is for," said I bitterly.
"And spoil the Alpine Derby, which you know is fixed for the tenth?" Frederick addressed me with some severity. "Look here—you must choose your sport and stick to it. I am a ski-er; you don't find me skating or bobbing or curling."
"Or ski-ing," I added.