zing that bitter night. Judith Blount was the only one
in the party who suffered from the experience. She spent a week in the
Infirmary with a deep cold and sore throat.

"You see," explained Judy Kean sagely to her two friends, "her system
was weakened by that awful fit of temper; she lost all mental and bodily
poise and took the first disease that came her way."

"She certainly lost all bodily poise," laughed Molly. "I didn't have any
more than she did. We slipped around like two helpless infants."

"But you didn't take cold," said Judy.

"I've made up my mind not to have any colds this winter," announced
Molly seriously. "After all, there's a good deal in just declining to
entertain them. I think the grip is a sort of bully who attacks people
who are afraid of him and keeps away from the ones who are not cowards."

The three girls spent half a day in bed sleeping off their weariness,
and on Friday afternoon they were able to call on Mrs. McLean, who,
being a hardy Scotchwoman, was none the worse from the walk. The doctor,
she said, had been up since seven o'clock attending to his patients.

"The truth is," she added, "he would not have missed the sight for
anything--the whole world turned into a skating rink and the campus the
centre of it."

Everybody in Wellington who could wear skates was out that afternoon.
The campus and golf links, as well as the lake, were covered with
circling, gliding figures. The best skaters coasted down hill on their
skates, as men do on snow shoes. They went with incredible speed and
the impetus carried them up the next hill without any effort.

Molly had seen very little skating at home. She had learned as a child,
but as she grew up the sport had not appealed to her, because somebody
was always falling in and the ice never lasted longer than a day or so.
Now, however, the picture of the circling, swaying crowd of skaters
thrilled her with a new desire to see if she had forgotten how to
balance herself on steel runners.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she cried. "I never saw anything so graceful. They
are like birds. First they soar. Then they flap their wings and soar
again."

"Flap their feet, you mean," interrupted Judy, "and woe to her who flops
instead of flaps."

Mary Stewart came sailing up to them, gave a beautiful curving turn and
then stopped.

"Isn't this glorious sport?" she cried, her cheeks glowing with
exercise. "Has your President told you about the skating carnival