“That’s Ralph Evans now,” said Tom to himself.  “Just wait till you see these skates, old boy, and maybe you won’t feel so smart!” And with slow, cautious strokes, he made his way through laughing boys and girls to a place just in front of the tall skater, coming toward him down the broad white way.  When Ralph was almost upon him, Tom paused and in conspicuous silence, looked down at his shining skates.

“Hullo,” said Ralph good naturedly, seizing Tom’s arm and swinging around.  Then, taking in the situation with a careless glance, he added, “Get a new pair of skates for Christmas?”

“‘Jolly Ramblers,’” said Tom impressively, “the best ‘Jolly Ramblers’ in the market!”

Ralph was a full half head the taller, but, as Tom delivered himself of this speech with his head held high, he felt every inch as tall as the boy before him.

If Ralph was deeply impressed he failed to show it, as he answered carelessly, “Huh, that so?  Pretty good little skates they are, the ‘Jolly Ramblers!’”

“You said no game fellow would use any other make,” said Tom hotly.

“O but that was nearly a year ago,” said Ralph.  “I got a new pair of skates for Christmas, too,” he added, as if it had just occurred to him, “‘Club House’ skates, something new in the market just this season.  Just look at the curve of that skate, will you?” he added, lifting a foot for inspection, “and that clamp that you couldn’t shake off if you had to!  They’re guaranteed for a year, too, and if anything gives out, you get a new pair for nothing.  Three and a half, they cost, at Mr. Harrison’s hardware store.  I gave my ‘Jolly Ramblers’ to a kid about your size.  A mighty good little skate they are!” And, with a long, graceful stroke, Ralph Evans skated away.

And it seemed to Tom Reynolds that all his Christmas joy went skimming away behind him.  The sun still shone, the ice still gleamed, the skaters laughed and sang, but Tom moved slowly on, with listless, heavy strokes.  The “Jolly Ramblers” still twinkled beneath his feet, but he looked down at them no more.  What was the use of “Jolly Ramblers” when Ralph Evans had a pair of “Club House” skates that cost a dollar more, had a graceful curve, and a faultless clamp, and were guaranteed for a year?

It was only four o’clock when Tom slipped his new skates carelessly over his shoulder and started up the bank for home.  He was slouching down the main street, head down, hands thrust deep into his pockets, when, on turning a corner, he ran plump into—­a full moon!  Now I know it is rather unusual for full moons to be walking about the streets by daylight; but that is the only adequate description of the round, freckled face that beamed at Tom from behind a great box, held by two sturdy arms.

“That came pretty near being a collision,” said the owner of the full moon, still beaming, as he set down the box and leaned against a building to rest a moment.