On arrival at the hotel I took out my skates, but, on Frederick's
advice, hid them again. "Don't let people see that you are a newcomer;
there won't be any skating for some weeks yet," said he.

"But why not?" I objected. "The ice must be at least six inches
thick."

"Well, it isn't done," he replied. "One's first week is spent in
settling down; you can't go straight on the ice without preparation."

On the third day a Sports' Meeting was held, as the result of which
a programme of the season was published. It was announced that there
would be, weekly, three dances and one bridge tournament; a theatrical
performance would be given once a fortnight, and the blank evenings
filled with either a concert or an entertainment. I began to wonder
how I could squeeze in time for sleep.

In order that boredom might not overtake the guests before evening
came, a magnificent tea was served from four to six. During the
afternoon one could visit the other hotels of the place and usually
found some function in progress. We were not expected to breakfast
before ten, and the short time that remained before lunch was spent
in a walk to the rink, where we would solemnly take a few steps on the
ice, murmur, "Not in condition yet," and return to the hotel.

After about a fortnight of this I announced to Frederick that I was
going to skate, no matter how far from perfection the ice proved to
be.

Frederick was indignant.