“Yes. It’s frozen hard. Otto was on it with a pair of horses and our pung,” declared Eve, who came in every morning from the country on the train, and whose father owned a big farm over beyond Robinson’s Woods.
“Peveril Pond. It’s as smooth as glass. I want you to all come over on Saturday afternoon; we’ll have a lot of fun,” declared Eve.
“You’re always inviting us to the farm, Evangeline,” said Nellie Agnew; “I should think your father and mother would be tired of having us overrun the place.”
“Never you mind about them,” declared Evangeline, smiling. “They love to have young folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at noon the autos will start from the Beldings’ front door—if it doesn’t snow.”
“Oh, snow!” cried Bobby. “I hope not yet.”
“‘Beautiful snow! he may sing whom it suits— I object to the stuff, ‘cause it soaks through my boots!’”
“It’s too bad,” said Jess, “that Mrs. Kerrick didn’t offer a prize for verse. Bobby would win it, sure!”
“Never you mind,” said Bobby, with mock solemnity. “I may surprise you all yet. I am capable of turning out tragic stuff—you bet your boots!”
“Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting,” murmured Nell Agnew, the doctor’s daughter.
“You think I cannot be serious?” demanded Bobby, very gravely. “Listen here. Here is what I call ‘The Lay of the Last Minorca’—not the ‘Last Minstrel!’
“‘She laid the still white form beside those that had gone before,’” quoth Bobby, in sepulchral tone.
“‘No sob, no sigh, forced its way from her heart, throbbing as though it would burst.
“‘Suddenly a cry broke the stillness of the place—a single heartbreaking shriek, which seemed to well up from her very soul, as she left the place:
“You ridiculous girl!” exclaimed Laura. “Aren’t you ever serious at all?”
“My light manner hides a breaking hear-r-r-t,” croaked Bobby. “You don’t know me, Laura, as I really _are!_”
“Don’t want to,” declared Laura Belding, briskly. “It must be awful to be a humorist. All right, Eve. We’ll come on Saturday. Chet will see Mr. Purcell about the big car. Lake Luna is frozen only at the edges, and is unsafe. But we will have a good time at Peveril Pond.”
Fortunately Mrs. Morse received payment for a story in a magazine that week or Jess would never have had the heart to join the skating party. But the sum realized was sufficient to settle with Mr. Closewick, pay the month’s rent of the cottage, and pay a part of each bill at Mr. Heuffler’s and Mr. Vandergriff’s shops.