ON THE ICE
There was a great crowd on the lake. It was perfect skating weather,
and every one who had skates and could use them, had come to enjoy the
advantage of the first real ice of the season. The banks were thronged
with onlookers, and it was a great inspiration to the expert ones to
know that their performances would be watched and commended by such an
audience as this.
"Goodness, girls! Did you ever see such a crush?" asked Louie
feverishly, hurrying her pace, as she, Nan, and Ruth neared the spot.
"There won't be room to move," announced Nan, adding with a laugh,
"much less to fall down in."
"All the better for me! I'll put on my skates and let the crowd push
me round. I'm never too sure of myself, but in a crush like this, one
can't go over, so I'm saved a heap of worry!" cried Ruth with a jolly
laugh.
Nan's skates were on in a twinkling, and she longed with all her heart
to be off and away. But the sight of poor Louie, struggling vainly
with her refractory straps, kept her back.
"Oh, do hurry," urged Ruth excitedly.
"Did you ever see such contrary things?" gasped Louie, her cheeks
crimson with cold, and the exertion of bending double in her fur jacket.
"Give them to me; I'll get them on in a jiffy," and Nan was down on her
knees and the skates secured before Louie had even time to thank her
with a look.
"Now, do come on!" cried Ruth, fairly dancing with eagerness.
"Oh, wait! wait! Please wait!" pleaded Louie. "This is the first time
I've been on the ice this year, and I feel so nervous I could scream."
John Gardiner spun past with a nod and a flourish, but a moment later
wheeled about and came skimming up to where they were standing, saying
briskly:
"Jolly day, isn't it? Ice in first-rate shape, too. Too many people,
but after a few of them get tired out it will be all right. Don't
suppose they'd care to stand aside and let us show them what skating
is, eh, Nan?"
Nan laughed. "Perhaps they wouldn't like the figures we'd cut. I'm
not sure I would myself. Pride goes before a fall, and I'd rather be a
bit humble and keep on my feet."
"As though you'd ever take a tumble," cried the young fellow with great
scorn. "Oh, I say, come along and let's do a turn or two, as we did on
the Steamer last year. Don't you remember what a rousing cheer we got?
Let's try it again."
For an instant Nan's blood leaped. She liked to do daring things, and
she loved applause. John Gardiner was as much at home on his skates as
she was on hers, and they were singularly at ease together. Moreover,
way down in her heart was a sort of lurking pride at being especially
chosen by this favorite among the "fellows" and being seen with him in
his attractive suit and his graceful "Norwegians" that were the envy
and admiration of all the other fellows in town. It certainly was a
temptation, and for a moment Nan yielded to it. Then she looked at
Louie's anxious face and shook her head.
"I'm heaps obliged," she said. "But I guess I'd better not to-day. It
wasn't much harm at the Steamer, for there was no crowd there to speak
of; but here it's so public, I'm afraid it wouldn't look well."
John threw back his head and laughed.
"As if you cared how things look!" he cried, frankly.
Nan's cheeks reddened furiously. She looked down and drew a figure on
the ice with the tip of her skate. Her confusion could not escape him,
and he caught himself up instantly. "I mean, you've always been so
sensible, you know. You haven't cared for tattle or nonsense. That's
what's made us like you so. A fellow hasn't had to be on the continual
jump for fear your hat wasn't on straight or your hair was coming down.
You're as plucky as a boy, and it's like having another jolly, good
fellow about when you're around. You're not going back on all that?
You aren't going to turn girly-girly? You aren't going to be a Nancy,
are you?"
She lifted her head with a jerk. "No; I'm going to stay plain Nan,"
she retorted. "But I can't go out with you this morning, John--at
least not now. Later I may take a turn if you're willing."
He saw that there was no shaking her resolution, and turned away with a
frown and a sigh.
"Very well. If you won't, you won't. I'll look you up by and by,
though, and maybe you'll have changed your mind by then," and he was
off like a flash, his flying feet seeming scarcely to touch the ice,
and his long, curved, glistening skates flashing back the sunlight from
their dazzling nickel blades.
Louie clutched Nan's arm. "Oh, I'm so glad you didn't go!" she said,
agitatedly. "I'm all of a tremble, and I'm sure I'll slip if you don't
hold on to me."
So Nan held on to her, and slowly piloted her this way and that, urging
her gently to strike out alone, and patiently waiting until she had the
courage to try. Ruth darted hither and thither, minding it as little
when she went down herself as when she was the cause of others doing
so, and always skating with an awkward energy that was refreshing to
behold.
"O Nan!" panted Louie, "how did you learn?"
"By getting up whenever I fell down," declared Nan, succinctly.
Ruth came toward them with arms flying like windmills.
"O girls!" she gasped; but just here her feet went from under her, and
she sat squarely upon the ice with a great plump. "O girls!" she
repeated, not a bit abashed and without trying to get up, "Mary
Brewster and Grace are over there, and they just asked John to take
them out--at least Mary did--and he said he was ever so sorry, but his
'card was full,' and they are simply furious."
"Get up!" commanded Nan, with lips that would twitch in spite of her
efforts to control them. "You'll catch your death of cold!"
Ruth grasped her outstretched hand and struggled to her feet. "How are
you getting on, Lu?" she asked, shaking the snow from her skirts.
"I think I'm doing a little better. Don't you, Nan?" appealed Louie,
tremulously.
"Why, yes. You'll skate as well as any one after you've once gained
courage," Nan returned cheerfully, and took up the slow, tedious task
again of steering her laboriously this way and that, Louie meanwhile
clinging to her arm and uttering little panic-stricken shrieks that
irritated Nan beyond measure. No one could conceive how hard it was
for the girl not to desert her clinging companion. She knew in her
heart that Louie would never master the knack unless she were made to
rely upon herself. As long as she could depend on Nan's support she
would not make any effort to use her own energy, nor would she exert
her will-power to force herself to strike out alone. The ice was in
perfect condition to-day, but it would not long remain so with such a
crowd cutting it to pieces, and the sun already thawing the powdered
snow and threatening to do more damage to-morrow. If Nan lost her
chance now she might not have another so good in weeks to come, for the
weather was always uncertain and the holidays were short. Everything
seemed to urge her to break loose from her self-imposed martyrdom and
go her way rejoicing; the crisp air that sang in her ears and filled
her with a sense of glorious exhilaration; the shimmering sunlight on
the ice that seemed to scud before her and invite her to join in the
race; the knowledge that she was in reality doing Louie a doubtful
service by staying beside her, and, last of all, the look of
disappointment in John's eyes as he shot past them at intervals, and
saw that Nan was not yet ready to capitulate. A sort of war with
herself was waging in her mind; her sense of duty against her
preferences; her long established habits against her newly found
resolutions. She had resolved to be like other girls in the future.
It was like headlong, impulsive Nan to make a resolve like this, and
never stop to realize that it was only the exaggeration of herself that
proved objectionable; that it would be as impossible for her to be
sedate and silent and serious as for a dashing dandelion to become a
dainty buttercup.
To her it seemed as if Miss Blake and the rest--were demanding of her
just such a metamorphosis and she had been trying--she really had--to
recast herself in the mold she thought they exacted. And now here came
John Gardiner, surely the nicest and most mannerly young fellow she
knew, and the one whom even Miss Blake was pleased to call "a perfect
gentleman"--here came John Gardiner, and told her that her despised
characteristics were precisely the ones that made her valuable. She
shook her head. It was no use; she could not understand.
"O Nan!" cried Louie, shunting along clumsily by her side and clutching
her arm in desperation. "Won't you please get me over to the shore?
I'm all tired out. I guess I'll go in for a bit and warm up and get
rested, and then I'll come out again, may be, and take another try."
Nan assented with alacrity.
"You've made a pretty good beginning," she said with new encouragement
in her voice.
"Oh, it's always the same!" wailed Louie. "Year before last I got so I
could do it quite respectably, and then last year I had to learn all
over again. I really thought I'd pick it up where I left off this
year, but you see how it is! The very sight of the ice when I'm on
skates makes me quake."
"Just force yourself to do it and you'll be surprised to see how soon
you'll be skimming all over creation," advised Nan, as she unfastened
her friend's skates and saw her start stiffly up the path to the Lodge.
Her heart gave a bound as she realized that she was at last alone and
untrammeled. She pulled her Russian cap well into place, thrust her
hands deep into her pockets, and set out for the middle of the lake,
her lithe young body swaying gently forward as she was carried this way
and that by her gliding feet. She looked about for John, but he was
nowhere to be seen, and she concluded that he had given up expecting
her and had either gone home or joined other friends. Ruth was forging
about after her own peculiar fashion, getting in every one's way and
under every one's feet, and enjoying it all immensely. She was
perfectly self-reliant, and Nan did not feel that there was any
necessity of offering assistance or even companionship to such a
self-sufficient, resolute maiden, and so she set about enjoying her
independence with a clear conscience. A moment later she had forgotten
everything but the keen delight of the delicious exercise; the fresh
current of air upon her cheeks; the sense of flashing through space
"without any appreciable effort; the knowledge of her mastery of the
art. She had not a shadow of fear. Instead, she felt a sort of wild
exultation in her own daring, and set about doing difficult feats with
an added delight in the very risk of the thing. Suddenly a shadow shot
toward her from the back, caught her by the arm and went flying
forward, suiting his rhythm to hers in an instant.
"Oh! heyo, John! I thought you'd gone home!" said Nan.
"Not a bit of it. Think I'd leave the ice when it's as prime as this?
Not much. What under the canopy have you been about all this time?
Toting Lou Hawes around when you ought to be making the best of the
rarest chance you'll get this season, maybe?"
"Oh, that's all right," rejoined Nan in a matter-of-fact way. "I liked
to do it--for a change. And she's a little timid."
"Well now, you're free, let's have a couple of extra good turns just to
make up for lost time," and he took her hand and started off on a fine,
free swing, Nan gliding beside him in such perfect accord that it
seemed as if one impulse moved them both. They swung apart rejoined,
and swung apart again. Then, dropping her hand John gave a curving
glide to the right which took him a pace ahead of her, and she,
repeating his movement, but toward the left, passed easily before him
on the other side, so on and on in a sort of progressive chain, until
at a sign they sped backward, reversing the order in which they had
come, and reached the starting point and circled round it, clasping
crossed hands and chatting gayly the while.
John saw that they had already attracted some attention, and it only
made his pulses quicken. He also saw that Nan was oblivious to
everything, but the mere delight of what she was doing, and he did not
think it worth while to remind her that this was not the Steamer, and
that if she wished to be inconspicuous, as she had suggested, she would
better limit herself strictly to a commonplace gait. Instead he bent
toward her, and said in a quick, low undertone, "I'll bet a quarter
you've forgotten how to cut your name."
"Oh, have I?" cried Nan, the spur pricking sharply at her pride. "Want
to see me do it?" and off she went accordingly, accomplishing the
difficult figure without a thought of hesitation, and returning to his
side laughing and triumphant.
"Now the spiral! Forward! Left foot first! Now right! Combination!"
John gave the directions in a sort of tense whisper. He was mortally
afraid Nan would become conscious, and see what was going on about her.
But he might have spared himself the trouble. She was absolutely blind
to the crowd that had gathered about them, and all the commendation she
was aware of was that which he gave her in a murmured "Good!" or "Fine!"
A wide circle had been cleared for them, and in it they and one or two
other hardy souls were exhibiting their prowess, while the throng
outside whispered and applauded and made comments on the different
skaters and their respective skill and grace.
"There! That's the serpentine he's doing now! Isn't it pretty?"
"It must be frightfully hard to go backward like that!"
"I should think he'd fall on his head!"
"Look! See! She's starting off again! Doesn't she do it well?"
"Who is she, anyway?"
Nan had completed her figure, and was waiting at the edge of the circle
for John to finish his and to come and join her. She stood well back,
so that she might not interfere with the others, and thus it was that
she was waked from her trance with an abrupt shock by the sound of two
whispering voices, seeming almost at her ear, their murmur carried so
in the chill, crystal air.
"Didn't I tell you she was a bold thing?"
"Sh! She'll hear you! She's right in front of us--only those men
between."
"No she won't, either. We're too far away. Didn't I tell you Lu's and
Ruth's friendship was for one night only? I knew well enough why Lu
asked her to come. Any one could see through that. She wants to learn
how to skate, and this was as ready a way as any to be taught, and she
jumps at the chance."
"Oh, do hush! She'll hear!"
"Don't care if she does. I don't know what your opinion is, but mine
is that it's positively brazen of her to do such things before a crowd
like this. Dragging John Gardiner into it, too! It's a disgrace!"
"Sh, please! There he comes!"
Nan pulled herself wearily forward a step or two to meet him.
"I say, what's up? What's the matter?" he demanded anxiously, looking
into her face and seeing the change it had undergone.
"Nothing! Nothing!" she reassured him quickly. "I'm tired, that's
all. And I didn't realize these people were watching us. Let's get
out of this. I hate the way they stare. I want to go home."
John took her by the elbow and steered for the bank.
"Won't you find Grace and Louie first? You came with them, didn't you?
They won't know what's become of you."
"I don't care! I want to go home!" she repeated irritably.
They sped forward silently, and in a moment had reached the shore. Nan
trembled so as she tried to unfasten her skates that John pushed her
hands aside and made her submit to having him assist her.
"You've caught cold!" he said remorsefully, "I was a brute to keep
urging you on. But I didn't dream you were tired. You looked so
bright and well."
"I'm not tired. I haven't caught cold!" said Nan. "Don't bother about
me, please. Go back and finish up your skate!"
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," rejoined he, removing his own skates. "But
I've finished it up already," and he grasped her arm and tramped her
off in the direction of the Park entrance with vigorous steps.
"Won't Lou and Ruth wonder?" he ventured again after a moment of
silence.
"No! They don't care!" cried Nan, dismally.
"The mischief they don't!" and John gave vent to an exclamation of
disbelief. "Why, Ruth was only telling me half an hour ago how good and
generous you were, and Louie caught me in the Lodge and went into regular
spasms over you. You're the patientest, the generousest--everythingelse-est
girl she knows. I had actually to tear myself away from her raptures when I
saw that you were free of her and could take a turn with me."
Nan shook her head.
"No, you're wrong, John!" she said hopelessly. "They don't like me.
None of them do. It's no use. I thought Christmas eve I might make
them, perhaps--but I give it up. I'm too--different!"
"Now, see here, Nan!" cried John, stopping suddenly in the middle of
the path and confronting her squarely, "this change of base has come on
you all of a sudden. You weren't in such a state before. You've seen
something or heard something that's given you a turn. Say now, haven't
you, honestly?"
Nan gulped and nodded grimly.
"I thought so. Well, now, you say you're different from the other
girls, and so you are in most ways, but just at present you're doing
the silliest trick I know. Going off by yourself and making people
miserable all around. Do you know what a fellow would do in your
place? Why, he'd go straight to the man he'd heard or seen back-biting
him and he'd make him come out fair and square and own up--or shut up.
'You pays your money and you takes your choice.' That's what a fellow
would do. But girls prefer to be martyrs and go about 'letting
concealment prey upon their damask cheeks' and all that namby-pamby
nonsense. Pshaw! I wouldn't give a rush for a girl's courage. It's
all humbug."
"It isn't any such thing!" cried Nan, hastening to defend her sex. "It
isn't because I'm afraid that I don't go straight up to the--the
person. It's because I have too much pride. I wouldn't demean myself
by letting her know I care."
"Oh, fudge! Pride! I like that! Care? Why, whoever she is, she can
see that, anyhow, with half an eye. It's as plain as preaching. You
came with Lu and Ruth, and were as gay and jolly as could be. Then,
all of a sudden, you turn grumpy and want to go home, and say Lu and
Ruth don't like you. The explanation of that is simple enough. You've
heard some one saying something about you, or pretending to repeat
something Lu and Ruth have said about you. There! Now haven't I hit
the nail on the head?"
Nan made no reply.
"I wager I have, though," continued the young fellow, watching her
closely, and drawing many of his conclusions from the evidence of her
tell-tale face. "And I'd be ashamed, even if I were a girl, to let
myself be worried by a thing like that. Besides, it isn't fair to Lu
and Ruth. You ought to give them a chance to set themselves straight.
You've no right to believe things of them till you've their own word
for it that it's true. Give them a chance, and if they act queer you
can throw them over."
"But I can't ask them," burst out Nan. "It wasn't anything they said.
It was about the way they feel, and if I give them a chance they may
throw me over."
John laughed. "True for you. They may. But anyway, you'd have done
the just thing. Whatever they did to you, you'd have played fair."
Nan thought a moment. Suddenly she turned on her heel and began to
retrace her steps. "I'm going back," she said, stoutly, "to find Lu
and Ruth! and--and--give them that chance."
"There! Now you're behaving like an honest man," announced John, with
gusto. "One can't afford to be too perpendicular."
But before they had taken a dozen steps they came upon the two girls
themselves, running breathlessly toward them.
"O Nan!" panted Louie. "What is the matter? Are you sick? Are you
hurt? We couldn't find you anywhere!"
"We looked all over and got terribly nervous, and at last Mary Brewster
told us you had gone home," Ruth broke in, gaspingly.
"She said John had taken you, and that you kind of walked as if you
were dizzy or something. We've run all the way! Do say, are you
sick?" pleaded Louie.
"Or hurt?" articulated Ruth.
John and Nan regarded each other solemnly for a moment. Then they both
broke into a peal of laughter. Nan was the first to speak.
"No, I'm not sick and I wasn't hurt--the way you mean. I was a
goose--that's all. I want you to forgive me."
"What for?" demanded the girls, in a breath.
"Why, for--for--making you run after me," replied Nan.