Sam made no answer. Orkney was approaching, and for an instant the eyes of the rivals met. Sam’s expression did not change, but the other’s smile lost the little charm it had. Sam found it bitterly taunting; it seemed to say to him, “This was what you schemed to prevent, eh? Well, you didn’t do it, did you?”
Step drove an elbow into his ribs. “You can’t spoil that mug by pounding it! Say, though! When are you going to get at it?”
“Soon as I can,” said Sam simply.
“Date with him?” whispered Step eagerly.
“Not exactly.”
The classes were rising to march out of the hall, but Step found time to make a suggestion.
“Maybe you can catch him down at the pond this afternoon. They say the ice is at last strong enough to hold.”
“I’ll be there,” Sam promised.
Mild as the season had been, the temperature had been falling steadily, if slowly; and the skim of ice on the big mill-pond on the outskirts of Plainville had thickened until it had been for some days in rather perilous use by venturesome skaters. Now, however, Sam believed it was reasonably safe; and when he descended the slope to the pond, its surface was dotted with swiftly gliding figures.
Directly in front of him a lively game of hockey was in progress. To the right, and safely removed from the rushes of the players, were boys and girls, skating singly, or in pairs, or in long lines, hand in hand. To the left, near the dam, were a few youngsters.