Raby, though less ambitious, was equally keen for the ice; and Scarfe, indolently inclined as he was, was constrained to declare himself also anxious to put on his skates.
A day was lost owing to the fact that Percy's skates, which had lain idle for two years, were now too small for him and useless.
Mrs Rimbolt devoutly hoped the ironmonger in Overstone would have none to fit him, and used the interval in intriguing right and left to stop the projected expedition.
She represented to her husband that the head gardener was of opinion that the frost had reached its height two days ago.

She discovered that Scarfe had a cold, to which exposure might be disastrous.

Raby she peremptorily forbade to dream of the ice; and as for Percy, she conjured him by the love he bore her to skate on nothing deeper than the Rodnet Marsh, whereat that young gentleman gibed.

The Overstone ironmonger had skates which fitted the boy to a nicety, and by way of business sent up "on inspection" a pair which Mr Rimbolt might find useful for himself.
"You surely will not allow Percy to go ?" said the lady to her husband, on the morning after the arrival of the skates.
"Why not?
He's a good skater, and we don't often have a frost." "But on Wellmere! Think of the danger!" "I often skated across Wellmere when I was a boy.

I would not object to do it again if I had the time to spare.