"I have been thinking you must learn to skate.

The pond has been swept clear of snow." "Thank you," returned the boy, with a grin which his uncle thought odd.
"Leila will teach you." John was silent, regarding his uncle with never dying interest, the soldier of Indian battles, the perfect rider and good shot, adored in the stables and loved, as John was learning, in all the country side.

John was in the grip of a boy's admiration for a realized ideal--the worship, by the timid, of courage.

Of the few things he did well, he thought little; and an invalid's fears had discouraged rough games until he had become like a timorous girl.

He had much dread of horses, and was alarmingly sure that he would some day be made to ride.