of youth, ever believing itself to be
transparent and understood all through, she imagined it would be seen
that he had the right to speak to her familiarly--that he had her in
his hand to destroy her at a word if so minded. Wherefore she said
"No" shortly, and turned away her eyes as her protest against his glad
face, crooked elbow and eager offer.

"I will not let you fall, and it is very jolly," cried Alick cheerily,
more like the boyish Alick of former days than the ascetic young
curate of modern times.

"I do not like it," said Leam.

Alick's countenance fell; and when his face, always long, became
longer still, with a congealed-looking skin, sad, red-lidded eyes
and a hanging under lip, it was not lovely. Indeed, according to
the miserable fatality which so often makes the spiritually best the
physically worst--like the gods whom the Athenians enclosed in outer
cases of satyrs and hideous masks of misshapen men--Alick's face was
never lovely. But his soul? If that could have been seen, the old
carved parable of the Greeks would have been justified.

"Nonsense, Leam! Why cannot you do as others do?" cried Mr. Dundas.

He wanted to get rid of her for a while, and he was not unwilling that
Alick, whose affection he suspected, should rid him of her for ever
if he cared to saddle himself for life with such an uncomfortable
companion.

"I do not like it," repeated Leam.

"Nonsense!" said her father again. "Other girls are on. Why should you
not join them? I see Adelaide Birkett and the Fairbairns. Why not go
to them with Alick?"

"It looks silly balancing one's self on the edge of a knife. And I
should fall," said Leam.

"No, you shall not fall," Alick pleaded. "I will undertake that you
shall not."

His arm was still held out, always awkwardly crooked.

Leam lifted her eyes. "No," she said with her old calm decision, and
moved away. Four years ago she would have supplemented her refusal by
the words, "You are stupid. You tease me," Now she contented herself
with action and accent.

Alick, very sorry, moist-eyed from disappointment, but not caring to
stand there and get chilled--for our good Alick was a little afraid
of cold, after the manner of mothers' sons in general--skated off
again to keep up his circulation, his knees bent, his chin forward,
his arms swinging as balance-weights to his long body, the ends of
his white woolen comforter flying behind him, and his legs running
anywhere, the clumsies