HOW A SMALL BOY DID A BIG THING AND NAILED DOWN THE LID OF THE BOX


Newton went to the pond, because he said he was going out for that
purpose, and it might be convenient to be able to swear that he had
really been down to the water's edge. As if to enjoy the pleasure of
anticipation, too, he had his skates with him in a green flannel bag,
though it was quite out of the question that the ice should bear
already, and it was not even likely that the water would be already
frozen over. However, he took the skates with him, a very good pair, of
a new model, which his father had given him towards the end of the
previous winter, so that he had not used them more than half a dozen
times. It was very cold, but of course the ice would not bear yet. The
sun had not set, and as he was already half-way to the town, the boy
apparently thought he might as well go on instead of returning at once
to the cottage, where he would have to occupy himself with his books
till supper-time, supposing that it occurred to his father to have any
supper in his present condition. The prospect was not wildly gay, and
besides, something must be done at once. Newton was possessed by that
idea.

When Overholt had been alone for some time, he got up from the horsehair
sofa and crept up the stairs, leaning on the shaky bannister like an old
man. In his own room he plunged his face into icy cold water again and
again, as if it were burning, and the sharp chill revived his nerves a
little. There was no stove in the room, and before midnight the water
would be frozen in the pitcher. He sat down and rubbed his forehead and
wondered whether he was really any better, or was only imagining or even
pretending that he was, because he wanted to be. Our own reflections
about our own sensations are never so silly as at the greatest moments