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The party sat on the bank in the shadow of
some tall pine trees, preparing for the amusement, piling spare coats and
shawls on the shoulders of a patient groom, and screwing and buckling
their skates on their feet.
"What beautiful ice!" exclaimed Joe, when Vancouver had done his duty by
the straps and fastenings. She tapped the steel blade twice or thrice on
the hard black surface, still leaning on Vancouver's arm, and then,
without a word of warning, shot away in a long sweeping roll. The glorious
vitality in her was all alive, and her blood thrilled and beat wildly in
utter enjoyment. She did not go far at first, but seeing the others were
long in their preparations, she turned and faced them, skating away
backwards, leaning far over to right and left on each changing stroke, and
listening with intense pleasure to the musical ring of the clanging steel
on the clean ice. Some pride she felt, too, at showing the little knot of
Bostonians how thoroughly at home she was in a sport they seemed to
consider essentially American.


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