Read Online Lady by Thomas Tryon - Free Book Online Page A

something to do with the current."
    Before she left, she spoke with Rabbit Hornaday, who helped her off with her skates, then walked up the hill with her. She even took his hand! I was furious. More furious shortly thereafter, for the next time Rabbit appeared he had a brand-new pair of skates slung over his shoulders, the latest kind, and by no means cheap. I was sure I knew where he had gotten them, and when Lady came again to take a spin on the ice I joined the hockey game and pretended not to see her. She waved, then went skating off with Rabbit, and I got madder. But I couldn't hold out for long, and the minute Rabbit left her, I raced to her side.
    She came often after that, sometimes skating alone, sometimes with Rabbit, but there would always be a quarter of an hour when she would suggest we skate together, sometimes hand in hand, returning red-faced and out of breath to the shore where she would remove her skates and go up the hill to supper behind the drawn shades of the dining room.
    Though I waited for another invitation to the house, none came. Nor was any mention made of the "little veal-cutlet supper," or the promised musical evening, or of my shoveling money. It was as though she had forgotten the entire episode. Though friendly, she seemed nervous and edgy, rather brittle like the ice, if not as cold, but in no way inclined to further our friendship.
    All this changed, however, one day later in the same month, when I suffered an accident which, had Lady not come to my rescue, might have ended my life. There had been a brief thaw, then another freeze. I had arrived home from my music lesson with Mr. Auerbach and, finding Lew and Harry out, I sneaked the bundled-up skate sail down to the Cove, where I planned on practicing alone. It was a bright breezy afternoon and, except for some younger kids scooting about near the shore, I had the river to myself. At the first gust of wind I lofted the sail, set it behind my back, and, leaning into the canvas, went flying across the ice. I worked my way upriver for a time, then let the force of nature return me on a free and easy tack, leaning back into the sail so it carried my weight along. The wind was blowing stronger. It bit my nose and I had to keep my mouth closed so it wouldn't hurt the fillings in my teeth.
    After nearly an hour of sailing I was prepared to call it quits when I saw, some distance downriver, the familiar black-jacketed figure with its swirl of striped scarf. I waved but she didn't see me. I leaned into the sail at an angle calculated to drive me directly toward her, the wind catching the canvas, catapulting me along. I gripped the bamboo brace more tightly, and continued to gather speed, hollering to Mrs. Harleigh as I approached.
    She raised her head and smiled when I sped past, about thirty feet away, planning at any moment to spill the wind and circle around her. But, thrilled by the speed at which I traveled, and wanting to show off for her, I refused to relinquish the wind and so failed to see the clump of bulrushes looming ahead.
    When I heard the first fierce crack of ice, it was already too late to save myself. Mrs. Harleigh cried out. I let go the sail, which flew up in the air and landed with a plop behind me. Unable to check my path, I shot pell-mell along on my own power while the ice splintered all around me. I toed my skates to force myself to a stop, trying at the same time to alter my direction. It was no good. The frozen floor sagged under my weight, then gave way altogether. Oozing cracks appeared all around me, the ice parted, broke, and I sank into the river.
    Grabbing the edge of the ice, I tried to pull myself up, only to have it break under my chest, and I continued to flounder.
    "Wait! Don't thrash about so!" I heard the voice ring out, and looked to see Mrs. Harleigh skate up to a neat stop a safe distance away. A space of eight or ten feet separated us. Another step and the ice cracked again. Quickly she spun around and