Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ Campbell, the aged minister of the church at the corner, had given a mighty heave, then sat down suddenly on the ice, and there remained, undignified but intent, watching the triumphant onward sweep of the stone.
An anomalous being, in a shabby overcoat tied together with brown string, came next. The crowd surged forward, breathless; there was a second's hush, the sudden swift scrape of the flying stone, a click, and a chorus of yells. “Diamond Jim” Stewart, the ward boss, was seen offering the shabby individual a drink out of his silver pocket-flask, assuring him, it was the best Scotch. ”

“ It is a great sport.”
When they reached the lake Mr. MacDougall had unaccountably forgotten the wind and his grievances. His face was glowing as it had not glowed for years, and a gentle sensation of warmth was stealing over his body. He stooped at the bank and gathering up a handful of snow made it skillfully into a ball. Then he nudged the minister and tossed it after Saunderson, forging eagerly ahead. ”

“ MacDougall, with a readiness of wit that astonished himself. “You can preach that 'there's no fool like an old fool,'” he chuckled. Then the smile faded somewhat; old David Thompson had come feebly across the lake and joined the group.
The vendor had put his pencils away, and stood eyeing the curling-stones wistfully, while over on the bank a uniformed park-policeman watched him with the instinct of his profession for a beggar. After a minute, while the doctor was vainly searching for a recruit, the fakir leaned over and touched one of the stones lovingly with his roughened hands. ”

“ Campbell followed Saunderson over the ice. And some distance behind them, walking aimlessly, because one direction was as good—or as bad—as another, was the lead-pencil fakir.
At one end of the lake was a group of men. Mr. MacDougall recognized Stewart, the politician, among them, and Dr. Mackey, the “young nincompoop” who had ordered his daily exercise. There were a dozen or so, most of them gray headed, some like the minister and himself, almost at the end of the furrow. ”

“ But you might telephone to that nincompoop of a doctor, to stop in to-night.”
He coughed again, and then buried his chin in his muffler and started slowly down the street.
“Barbara,” he called, turning, “if that Thompson jack-a-dandy comes to see Ruth, now that you've got me out of the house, remember what I told you—and go in and shut the door. The furnace wont heat the universe.”
Ruth's face was crimson as the door closed obediently, and she faced her mother in the hall. ”

“ Sometime later, two young people came briskly across the snowy plain. The girl's eyes were shining in the cold, and she held her chinchilla muff against a distractingly pretty cheek. The young man objected to the muff ”