Miriam Nesbit had been inwardly furious over the outcome of her plan to gain the captaincy, but she was wise enough to assume an air of indifference over her defeat.  Grace’s speech had made considerable impression on the minds of even Miriam’s most devoted supporters and she knew that the slightest slip on her part would turn the tide of opinion against her.

Grace was in a more cheerful frame of mind than formerly.  She felt that all would come right some day.  “Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,” she told herself, and the familiar saying proved very comforting to her.

Winter had settled down on Oakdale as only a northern winter can do.  There had been snow on the ground since Thanksgiving, and sleigh rides and skating parties were in order.

Grace awoke one Saturday morning in high good humor.

“To-day’s the day,” she said to herself.  “Hurrah for skating!”

She hurried through her breakfast and was donning her fur cap and sweater, when Anne, Jessica and Nora, accompanied by David, Hippy, Reddy and, to her surprise and delight, Tom Gray, turned in at her gate.

    “’Oh, be joyful, oh, be gay,
      For there’s skating on the bay,’”

sang Hippy.

“Meaning pond, I suppose,” laughed Grace, as she opened her front door.

“Meaning pond?” answered Hippy, “only pond doesn’t rhyme with gay.”

“You might say,

    “’Oh, be joyful, oh, be fond,
      For there’s skating on the pond,’”

suggested David.

“Fond of what?” demanded Hippy.

“Of the person you’ve asked to skate with you,” replied David, looking toward Anne, who stood with a small pair of new skates tucked under her arm.

“I shall be initiated into all the mysteries of the world soon,” she observed, smiling happily.  “Last year it was coasting and football and now it’s dancing and skating.  When I once get these things on, David, I’ll be like a bird trying its wings, I’ll flop about just as helplessly.”

“I’m awfully glad to see you, Tom,” said Grace, “I did not expect to see you until Easter.”

“Oh, I couldn’t keep away,” laughed Tom.  “This is the jolliest place I know.”

“Good reason,” said Reddy, “we are the real people.”

“Stop praising yourself and listen to me,” said Hippy.  “Our pond has frozen over in the most obliging manner.  It’s as smooth as glass.  Let’s go there to skate.  There’s a crowd of boys and girls on it already.”

The pond on the Wingate estate was really a small lake, a mile or more in circumference.  While it froze over every winter, the ice was apt to be rough, and there were often dangerous places in it, air-holes and thin spots where several serious accidents had occurred.

Therefore, Wingate’s Pond was not used as much as the river for skating; but this winter the ice was as smooth and solid as if it had been frozen artificially, so the High School boys and girls could not resist the temptation to skim over its surface.