t know what to do without Mr. Wade. We like him so much,” — said ardently.
What Bill feared was true, then, he thought. Wade, noble fellow, worthy to win any woman’s heart, had fascinated his landlady’s daughter.
“I don’t wonder you like him,” said he. “He deserves it.”
Belle was touched by her old lover’s forlorn tone.
“He does indeed,” she said. “He has helped and taught us all so much. He has taken such good care of Perry. And then” — here she gave her companion a little look and a little smile — “he speaks so kindly of you, Mr. Tarbox.”
Smile, look, and words electrified Bill. He gave such a spring on his skates that he shot far ahead of the lady. He brought himself back with a sharp turn.
“He has done kinder than he can speak,” says Bill. “He has made a man of me again. Miss Belle.”
“I know it. It makes me very happy to hear you able to say so of yourself.” She spoke gravely.
“Very happy” — about anything that concerned him? Bill had to work off his over-joy at this by an exuberant flourish. He whisked about Belle, — outer edge backward. She stopped to admire. He finished by describing on the virgin ice, before her, the letters B. P., in his neatest style of podography, — easy letters to make, luckily.
