"Faint heart never yet won anything but a spill." Laura had her card out by this time, and was studying it leisurely, trusting to her companion to guide her.
"I see Fred Ripley is entered for the grand event in fancy skating," she observed.
"Yes; are you interested in him ?" Something in the directness of the question caused the girl to bite her lips.
"Now, that's hardly fair, Dick," she cried, flushing with vexation.
"No; the fact is, I'm hoping he'll lose." "Why ?" "Because, Fred has never been very nice to you, Dick." That was direct enough, and Dick flushed with pleasure.
"Thank you, Laura; that's more handsome than what I said to you." "I accept your apology," she laughed.

"Look! There goes Fred Ripley now! How foolish of him." Fred was heading straight out of the cove toward the river.

He was a fine skater, and now he was showing off at his best.

He had adapted a "turn promenade" step from roller skating, and was whirling along, turning and half dancing as he sped along.
It was a graceful, rhythmical performance.

Despite the fact that young Ripley was not widely liked, his present work drew considerable applause from the spectators.
That applause acted like incense under the young man's nostrils.
He determined to go farther out, maintaining his present step unbroken.
"Look out, Ripley!" warned Thomp.