e replied.

'But are you going to keep this as a rink? I thought you used it as a
barn in the autumn and winter?' inquired Horatia.

'We can build another,' he replied lightly, as if building another huge
barn was the work of a few hours. 'Come, let's see you go round.'

Horatia accordingly started off, and Mark Clay followed her with
approving eyes.

'She's a nice, dear girl, isn't she, Mark?' said his wife, emboldened by
her husband's softer expression to approach him.

'She is that,' he replied with emphasis.

'The man seems fond of his daughter. I heard he was as harsh at home as
he is abroad; but I see he has been maligned,' said a visitor, who did
not know Sarah.

'That is not his daughter, I am sure, for they say she is the prettiest
girl in Ousebank,' replied a friend.

'Well, that is a very nice, bright-looking girl, and a millionaire's
daughter is always pretty in the eyes of the world; gold makes most
things beautiful,' replied the lady; and she had hardly uttered the words
when Sarah herself, noticing that the two were strangers, and had not had
refreshments, came up to them.

'Won't you come and have some tea?' she asked in her dignified and rather
stiff way.

'Thank you; it would be nice. Are you Miss Clay, then?' inquired the
lady, who recognised that she was speaking to the prettiest girl present,
at all events.

'Yes,' said Sarah gravely.

'We thought the young lady laughing and talking to Mr Clay must be his
daughter; they seemed so friendly,' observed the stranger, as she and her
friend skirted the barn to get to the refreshment-tables.

Sarah could not help colouring slightly. 'No; she is only a schoolfellow
who is staying with us,' she replied; and the lady thought she had never
met with such an unapproachable girl, and wondered whether it was shyness
or pride. She had no idea that she was touching on a sore point.

When the party was over and the last motor had disappeared down the long
avenue, Horatia gave a little sigh of relief. 'I am glad they have gone.
I couldn't have skated another minute,' she said.

'You needn't have gone as long as you did. Why didn't you stop?' demanded
Sarah with uplifted brows. 'I was wondering at you; you scarcely rested
at all. I'm not a bit tired, because I rested at intervals.'

'I simply can't stop when I see other people. I must rink too,' she
declared.

There was a glorious sunset, and Tom Fox prophesied a fine day on the
morrow.

'So it