He hastened to the post office for the mail, and then went on to Mr. Shephard's store on an errand, that gentleman and he being now most excellent friends. Then he went on down to the wharves. He gave a sigh as he stepped on the ice, for he thought of the broken skates under his arm. "It's all the difference between twenty minutes and an hour in getting home to-night," he said, and proceeded slowly out from the shore. A moment later some one called him, and he turned around to find Daisy Lawton standing on the dock.
"Come here a minute please, Ray," she said.
He retraced his steps, carefully arranging his skates so that she would not notice they were broken, and wondering how he should explain why he had not put them on.
His wonderment was immediately dispelled, for she took a pair of skates out from under her cloak, and extended them toward him, saying:
"Here, Ray, take these; I know yours are broken, for I saw you in the coat room. I am not sure any more than you who did the mean trick, but I fear it was Edward."
As Ray hesitated to take the proffered skates, she quickly added: "These were Brother Herbert's, who, you know, died last year. I have mamma's permission to lend them to you, and they are just like your own."
Ray took the skates reluctantly, and put them on. Then he said: "I don't believe, Miss Daisy, any one but you knows that my skates were broken, and we are not sure that it was Edward. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt, and keep this matter between us. He shall know no difference in my treatment of him."
Tears came to her eyes, as she answered him: "I was going to ask you to promise that, and you have done it without my asking. It was Eddie's good name I was thinking of. Will you let me have your broken skates? I will keep them safely, and no one but mamma and ourselves will know about this, until the real offender confesses his act."
He handed the skates to her, and with a pleasant "good-night" glided rapidly off toward Long Point Farm.