cheeks were almost as bright as the scarlet
muffler he wore around his neck, and the dangling skates told for
themselves the expedition upon which he was bound. The other boys
readily agreed to join him, and after running home for their skates, the
party started off in such high spirits that the conductor of the car
which they entered, begged them to be a little more quiet.

"Not quite so noisy, please, young gentlemen," he said, as they paid
their fare.

"Pshaw!" said Roger, while Bob made a face when his back was turned to
them, giving Frank an opportunity of noticing the large patch on his
overcoat. He made some funny speech about it, at which the others
laughed heartily. It usually does boys good to laugh, unless the laugh
be at the expense of some one else. A good-natured laugh is good for the
heart.

After a while the car stopped for another passenger; the conductor
assisted the person in getting on, and Roger, thinking more time was
taken than usual, called out:--

"Hurry up, hurry up--no time to lose!"

The new-comer was a boy about his own age, but sadly deformed; he was a
hunchback, and had a pale, delicate face, which spoke of sorrow and
painful suffering.

"Now do move up," said the conductor, as the boys sat still, not
offering to make room; but when he spoke, they all crowded together,
giving much more room than was necessary,--the three together trying to
occupy the space that one would comfortably fill. They continued talking
and joking noisily, until the car stopped at the entrance of the park.

Bob and Frank pushed out ahead of all the other passengers. Roger was
pushing out after them when the conductor laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't crowd, don't crowd; plenty of time, young man."

This expostulation came too late, for Roger in his impatience to get
out, unheeding of what he was doing, caught one of his skates in the
scarf of the crippled boy, who had been sitting next to him. He gave his
skate strap a rude pull, knocking the boy rather roughly, and stepping
on a lady's toes.

[Illustration: "_It wasn't my fault, was it_?"]

"Bother take it!" he exclaimed impatiently, and giving the scarf another
jerk, ruder than before, he succeeded in disentangling it; then he
rushed out, hurried over to the boys who awaited him on the pavement,
where they stood stamping their feet and whistling. Roger made no reply
to the crippled boy, who said to him gently:--

"It wasn't my fault, was it?"