BETTY GOES COASTING

It did seem a shame that lessons should be as exacting as ever when outside the trees bent beneath their white burden and eager eyes were fixed longingly on the hill back of the school.

“You can’t coast through the woods, anyway, Betty,” Libbie whispered in the French period.  “You may be a wonder, but how can you go through the tree stumps?”

“Don’t intend to,” whispered back Betty.  “There’s a cleared space in there—­I’ll show you.”

“Young ladies, if you please—­” suggested Madame politely, and the girls jerked their thoughts back to translation.

The moment lessons were over that afternoon, they dashed for their sleds.  The eight who chummed together had four sleds between them which was enough for the enjoyment of all.  Constance Howard had seen so little snow in her life spent in California that she was very much excited about it and had bought her sled in August to be ready for the first fall.  Bobby had been to Edentown and bought a little toy affair, the best she could get there, and Frances Martin had sent home for her big, comfortable Vermont-made sled that made up in dependability what it lacked in varnish and polish.  Counting Betty’s, this gave them four sleds.

There was a conventional hill half a mile away from the school, toward which most of the girls turned their steps.  On the first afternoon it was crowded.  The Salsette cadets had come coasting, too, for on their side of the lake there was not so much as a mound of earth, and whoever would coast must perforce cross the lake.

“We’ll go up to the woods,” announced Betty.  “There will be more room, and it’s much more exciting to go down a steep hill.”

So it proved.  The cleared space to which Betty had referred demanded careful steering, and Frances Martin at the first glance relinquished the control of her sled.

“I can’t judge distances,” she explained, touching her glasses, “and I’d be sure to steer straight for a tree.  Libbie, you’ll have to be the skipper.”

So Libbie took Frances, Betty took Bobby, Constance took Norma on her sled, and Alice steered for Louise, using Bobby’s sled.

Such shrieks of laughter, such wild spills!  If Ada Nansen had been there to see she would certainly have been confirmed in her statement that coasting was “for children.”  They were coming down for the sixth time when Bob Henderson, the Tucker twins and Timothy Derby appeared.

“We thought we’d find you here!” was Bob’s greeting.  “Trust Betty to pick out a mystic maze for her coasting.  It’s a wonder some of you girls haven’t shot down into Indian Chasm!”

“Well, I like a steep coast,” said Betty defensively.  “I wouldn’t give a cent a hundred for a little short coast down a gentle slope.  Want me to take you down on my sled, Bob?”

“I don’t believe I do, thank you just the same,” returned Bob politely.  “Six of you can pile on the bob, though, and I’ll give you a thrilling ride, safety guaranteed.  Who wants to come?”