Early in December came a black frost, and navigation on the canal was suspended. Wickens’s boy was sent to the college with news that Wickens’s pond would bear, and that the young ladies should be welcome at any time. The pond was only four feet deep, and as Miss Wilson set much store by the physical education of her pupils, leave was given for skating. Agatha, who was expert on the ice, immediately proposed that a select party should go out before breakfast next morning. Actions not in themselves virtuous often appear so when performed at hours that compel early rising, and some of the candidates for the Cambridge Local, who would not have sacrificed the afternoon to amusement, at once fell in with her suggestion. But for them it might never have been carried out; for when they summoned Agatha, at half-past six next morning, to leave her warm bed and brave the biting air, she would have refused without hesitation had she not been shamed into compliance by these laborious ones who stood by her bedside, blue-nosed and hungry, but ready for the ice. When she had dressed herself with much shuddering and chattering, they allayed their internal discomfort by a slender meal of biscuits, got their skates, and went out across the rimy meadows, past patient cows breathing clouds of steam, to Wickens’s pond. Here, to their surprise, was Smilash, on electro-plated acme skates, practicing complicated figures with intense diligence. It soon appeared that his skill came short of his ambition; for, after several narrow escapes and some frantic staggering, his calves, elbows, and occiput smote the ice almost simultaneously. On rising ruefully to a sitting posture he became aware that eight young ladies were watching his proceedings with interest.
“This comes of a common man putting himself above his station by getting into gentlemen’s skates,” he said. “Had I been content with a humble slide, as my fathers was, I should ha’ been a happier man at the present moment.” He sighed, rose, touched his hat to Miss Ward, and took off his skates, adding: “Good-morning, Miss. Miss Wilson sent me word to be here sharp at six to put on the young ladies’ skates, and I took the liberty of trying a figure or two to keep out the cold.”
“Miss Wilson did not tell me that she ordered you to come,” said Miss Ward.
“Just like her to be thoughtful and yet not let on to be! She is a kind lady, and a learned — like yourself, Miss. Sit yourself down on the campstool and give me your heel, if I may be so bold as to stick a gimlet into it.”
His assistance was welcome, and Miss Ward allowed him to put on her skates. She was a Canadian, and could skate well. Jane, the first to follow her, was anxious as to the strength of the ice; but when reassured, she acquitted herself admirably, for she was proficient in outdoor exercises, and had the satisfaction of laughing in the field at those who laughed at her in the study. Agatha, contrary to her custom, gave way to her companions, and her boots were the last upon which Smilash operated.
“How d’you do, Miss Wylie?” he said, dropping the Smilash manner now that the rest were out of earshot.
“I am very well, thank you,” said Agatha, shy and constrained. This phase of her being new to him, he paused with her heel in his hand and looked up at her curiously. She collected herself, returned his gaze steadily, and said: “How did Miss Wilson send you word to come? She only knew of our party at half-past nine last night.”
“Miss Wilson did not send for me.”
“But you have just told Miss Ward that she did.”
“Yes. I find it necessary to tell almost as many lies now that I am a simple laborer as I did when I was a gentleman. More, in fact.”
“I shall know how much to believe of what you say in the future.”
“The truth is this. I am perhaps the worst skater in the world, and therefore, according to a natural law, I covet the faintest distinction on the ice more than immortal fame for the things in which nature has given me aptitude to excel. I envy that large friend of yours — Jane is her name, I think — more than I envy Plato. I came down here this morning, thinking that the skating world was all a-bed, to practice in secret.”
“I am glad we caught you at it,” said Agatha maliciously, for he was disappointing her. She wanted him to be heroic in his conversation; and he would not.
“I suppose so,” he replied. “I have observed that Woman’s dearest delight is to wound Man’s self-conceit, though Man’s dearest delight is to gratify hers. There is at least one creature lower than Man. Now, off with you. Shall I hold you until your ankles get firm?”
“Thank you,” she said, disgusted: “I can skate pretty well, and I don’t think you could give me any useful assistance.” And she went off cautiously, feeling that a mishap would be very disgraceful after such a speech.
He stood on the shore, listening to the grinding, swaying sound of the skates, and watching the growing complexity of the curves they were engraving on the ice. As the girls grew warm and accustomed to the exercise they laughed, jested, screamed recklessly when they came into collision, and sailed before the wind down the whole length of the pond at perilous speed. The more animated they became, the gloomier looked Smilash. “Not twopenn’orth of choice between them and a parcel of puppies,” he said; “except that some of them are conscious that there is a man looking at them, although he is only a blackguard laborer. They remind me of Henrietta in a hundred ways. Would I laugh, now, if the whole sheet of ice were to burst into little bits under them?”
Just then the ice cracked with a startling report, and the skaters, except Jane, skimmed away in all directions.
“You are breaking the ice to pieces, Jane,” said Agatha, calling from a safe distance. “How can you expect it to bear your weight?”
“Pack of fools!” retorted Jane indignantly. “The noise only shows how strong it is.”
The shock which the report had given Smilash answered him his question. “Make a note that wishes for the destruction of the human race, however rational and sincere, are contrary to nature,” he said, recovering his spirits. “Besides, what a precious fool I should be if I were working at an international association of creatures only fit for destruction! Hi, lady! One word, Miss!” This was to Miss Ward, who had skated into his neighborhood. “It bein’ a cold morning, and me havin’ a poor and common circulation, would it be looked on as a liberty if I was to cut a slide here or take a turn in the corner all to myself?”
“You may skate over there if you wish,” she said, after a pause for consideration, pointing to a deserted spot at the leeward end of the pond, where the ice was too rough for comfortable skating.
“Nobly spoke!” he cried, with a grin, hurrying to the place indicated, where, skating being out of the question, he made a pair of slides, and gravely exercised himself upon them until his face glowed and his fingers tingled in the frosty air. The time passed quickly; when Miss Ward sent for him to take off her skates there was a general groan and declaration that it could not possibly be half-past eight o’clock yet. Smilash knelt before the campstool, and was presently busy unbuckling and unscrewing. When Jane’s turn came, the campstool creaked beneath her weight. Agatha again remonstrated with her, but immediately reproached herself with flippancy before Smilash, to whom she wished to convey an impression of deep seriousness of character.
“Smallest foot of the lot,” he said critically, holding Jane’s foot between his finger and thumb as if it were an art treasure which he had been invited to examine. “And belonging to the finest built lady.”