ood doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John
venturing on a bolder flight.

"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh.
"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful
present. It was really too good of you."

The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs.
Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came
up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings
for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the
faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating
everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old
women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away
through the white gate of the churchyard.

It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be
skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party
that the pond was in excellent condition.

"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been
sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack
anywhere."

"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John.

"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it."

"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun."

"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing.

"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of
conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs."

"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short."
The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who
wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate.

Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs.
Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this
idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older,
slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though
very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights,
was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than
words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society
for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for
the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas
holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as
a boy, it migh