218 THE LAND OF PLUCK

Suddenly Wilbur cried, “Oh!” and stood motionless,
looking steadily at the tloor. Rob flew to him like a good
brother, as he was, and gave him a poke.

“What on earth ’s the matter, Wilbur?”

“Nothing. Only I bet we could! Sure as I live we
could !”

“Could what?” cried Tommy.

“Why, make a skating-pond here, right here, in this
very garret!”

“Yes, you could,” sneered Tommy, who, by the way, was
the only fellow who had taken off his hat; Ruth had ex-
cused the others because the garret was not very warm.

“T tell you, I could, man. I say, Ned, let ’s do it! We
can have a pond here before night. You have a bath-room
on the next floor, have n’t you? Here are pots and pans
enough for all of us.”

All the eight stared at Wilbur, as if they thought his
wits were leaving him, but he added eagerly:

“T tell you, it will be grand. We ’1l have as bie a cirele
as we can get here in the middle of the garret, and make a
bank out of that clay, after we ’ve moistened it so it will
stick together. Clay holds water perfectly. Then we ’ll
fill up the circle with water.”

Their eyes danced at this, but Tommy chilled their
ardor with a sarcastic —

“Ho! skate on water! ho!”

“We ’ll open the scuttle and the windows, and let the
pond freeze overnight” said Wilbur.

rt?

“Jimminy!” screamed Ned; “so we can! Come on

here; we ’ll have the bank in a jiffy!”

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