fire; there’s ever so much room here on the sofa.”
And Fred’s voice added,—
“Hullo, Bob!” as he hospitably made room for his guest.
There was another pause as Rob seated himself, for neither boy knew just what to say. Fred had straightened himself up, and was twirling his thumbs, while Rob crossed his feet and uncrossed them again, as he methodically folded up his soft felt hat into a neat bundle.
As both boys declined to break the silence, Bess again took the lead.
“Is it cold to-night?” she asked Rob.
“Yes it’s freezing fast, and ’twill be fine skating to-morrow. All us boys are planning to go”—And Rob came to a sudden halt, as the idea dawned on him that such subjects were not interesting to Fred, who asked abruptly,—
“How’s Phil?”
“He’s well,” replied Rob laconically, determined to make no mistake this time.
“What’s Bert Walsh doing with himself?”
“Football, of course.” And both the boys
