Louise Elizabeth Dutton, The Wishing Moon
“ It was a day to be towed along on your skates with one hand on the boat. Judith and Neil had tired of this and fallen behind.Close together, but not taking hands, they swung slowly through the unpeopled emptiness, leaving a tiny scattering of tracks behind, the blue-white ice firm under their feet through a light film of snow. The ice-boat was out of sight, the sprightly and unexpurgated ballad of "Amos Moss," rendered in the closest of close harmony, could be heard no longer, and a heavy silence hung over the lake. The camp lay far behind them, a vanishing speck. ”
