Every morning Cecil, under Bluebell's tuition, practised skating at the
Rink, and had devised an original and becoming costume to be assumed as
soon as she had attained sufficient command of her limbs not to object to
a share of public attention. In the afternoon the Rink was generally
crowded, and many of the Colonel's regiment evinced an eagerness to help
Cecil along, and pretend to receive instruction from the skilful and
blooming Bluebell; so poor Mrs. Rolleston was then invariably detailed by
the Colonel for chaperone duty, and sat shivering on the platform while
Cecil was being initiated in the mysteries of "Dutch rolls" and "outside
edge." On one of these occasions she was roused by a well-known voice
calling her by name, and turned round in joyful surprise to greet a young
man just come in.

"My dear Bertie, were have you sprung from? Have you been to our house?"

"Just left it and my traps. Lascelles suddenly gave up his leave, which
I applied for, and have got a week certain, and most likely all of it,
for there are plenty of Captains down there; so I thought I would look
you up to begin with."

"To begin with! You must stay here all the time--make it head quarters,
at any rate. You have been travelling all the summer, and there's nothing
to do now."

"Moose," murmured Bertie. "Ah! there's Cecil."

Cecil, skating hand-in-hand to the tune of "Paddle your own canoe,"
was not sufficiently disengaged to remark her mother's companion. His
eyes followed her with a keen, comprehensive glance, which Mrs. Rolleston
observed complacently.