"For the Lord's sake, Kent!"

Kent it was, big and rosy with his skates over his shoulders. He
walked into the living-room deliberately.

"Hello, Lydia," he said, "I came out to see your Christmas presents."

Lydia clasped her hands. "Oh, Kent, I'm so glad! But you can't stay!
We're quarantined."

"What the seventeen thunder-bugs do I care," returned Kent, gruffly,
looking away from Lydia's appealing eyes.

Lydia laughed, as she always did at Kent's astonishing oaths. At the
sound of the laughter, old Lizzie gave a sigh as though some of her own
tense nerves had relaxed.

"Now see here," growled Kent, "they've got no business to shut you up
this way. You come out and skate for a while. The wind's blown the
snow till there's lots of clear places. I got up here without much
trouble. We won't meet anybody at this end of the lake."

"Just the thing, quarantine or not!" exclaimed, Lizzie, briskly. "And
I'll cook a surprise for the two of you. Keep her out an hour, Kent."

Lydia silently got into overcoat and leggings and pulled on her Tam o'
Shanter. She brought her skates from the kitchen and the two children
made their way to the lake shore.