with
spectators who were watching the skaters with which the ice was alive.
Among the crowd were many women of fashion, muffled in their furs,
carrying huge muffs to keep their fingers warm, and scarlet uniforms,
dotted here and there, served to heighten the effect of brilliancy and
animation. As they turned the corner of a furnace whose big chimney had
sheltered them for a moment, a young man darted up the bank and greeted
Kitty.

"How late you are," he said reproachfully. "Philip Livingston and I
have been watching for you this hour. The ice is in fine condition; may
I put on your skates?"

While young De Lancey was thus engaged Peter and Betty were making ready
also. Up in the Litchfield hills, where the winter set in early and
lasted late, Betty had learned to use her skates well, and she and her
brother Oliver had been the best skaters in the township when she was
hardly more than a child. Even the timid Pamela had gained boldness and
dexterity on the clear, frozen pond; and therefore when Betty, with the
ease of a practiced skater, glided off without assistance, Peter flew
after her in round-eyed amazement.

"I say, Betty," he exclaimed, breathless with his effort to catch her,
"how you do fly! My eye! there isn't one of these New York dames or
maids who can equal you," and he chuckled with triumph as Betty began to
execute some very difficult motions which she and Oliver had often
practiced together.

"Give me your hand, Peter; there, now, glide this way, and take the
outside roll--oh! have a care; if you turn like that you will surely
catch your skate in mine. That's better; now cross hands, and go
gently; see, I am cutting a face on the ice."

Surely enough, as Peter glanced behind he saw a gigantic profile grow on
the smooth surface beneath Betty's little foot, and the skaters around
them paused to wonder and admire.

"There," said Betty, making a final flourish, "come back to the bank and
let us find Kitty." But as they flew along Betty saw a familiar red coat
appear beside Kitty's advancing figure, so dropping Peter's hand she
dashed off in an opposite direction. She headed for the north bank,
which was less crowded, but slacked her speed a little, fearing an
air-hole, as she debated which way to turn.

"Mistress Betty," said a voice just behind her, and with a little start
she realized that the obnoxious scarlet coat had reached her side, "will
you skate a turn with me down the pond?"

"Surely,"