Theodore Winthrop

“ Smile, look, and words electrified Bill. He gave such a spring on his skates that he shot far ahead of the lady. He brought himself back with a sharp turn.
“He has done kinder than he can speak,” says Bill. “He has made a man of me again. Miss Belle.”
“I know it. It makes me very happy to hear you able to say so of yourself.” She spoke gravely.
“Very happy” — about anything that concerned him? Bill had to work off his over-joy at this by an exuberant flourish. He whisked about Belle, — outer edge backward. She stopped to admire. ”

“ Bill asked, suddenly, aware of another pang after a moment of peace.
“He came with me and his sisters,” she replied.
Yes; poor Ringdove had dressed himself in his shiniest black, put on his brightest patent-leather boots, with his new swan-necked skates newly strapped over them, and wore his new dove-colored overcoat with the long skirts, on purpose to be lovely in the eyes of Belle on this occasion. Alas, in vain!”
“Mr. Ringdove is a great friend of yours, isn’t he?” ”

“ I never could get over it, until he told mother that you were the best machinist he ever knew, and would some time grow to be a great inventor.”
“I’m glad you hated him. I suffered rattlesnakes and collapsed flues for fear you’d go and love him.” ”