There had not been much chance for stirring exercise for the girls since the snow fell and really cold weather set in, for there was not much pleasure in riding under such conditions, and they had both missed the healthy outdoor sport.  But the prospect of skating set them both a-tingle to get upon the ice and they were eagerly awaiting the official order from the Academy, for no one is allowed upon the ice until it is pronounced entirely safe by the authorities, and the Commandant gives permission.  Of course, this does not apply to the townspeople or to that section of the creek beyond the limits of the Academy, but it is very rigidly enforced within it.  As the girls were eager to learn whether the brigade would have permission that afternoon, they went over to hear the orders read at luncheon formation, and came back nearly wild with delight to inform Mrs. Harold that not only was permission granted but that the band would play at the edge of the creek from four until six o’clock.

“And if that won’t be ideal I’d like to know what can be,” cried Polly, and scarcely had she spoken when the telephone rang.

“Hello.  Yes, it’s Polly.  Of course we can.  What time!  To the very minute.  Yes, Peggy’s right here beside me and fairly dancing up and down to know what we are talking about.  No, don’t come out for us; we will meet you at the gate at three-thirty sharp.  Good-bye,” and snapping the receiver into its socket, Polly whirled about to catch Peggy in a regular bear hug and cry: 

“It was Happy.  He and the others want us all to come over at three-thirty.  Aunt Janet, too.  They have an ice-chair for her; they borrowed it from someone.  Oh, won’t it be fun!”

Peggy’s dark eyes sparkled, then she said:  “But my skates.  They are ’way out at Severndale.”

Without a word Mrs. Harold walked to the telephone and a moment later was talking with Harrison.  The skates would be sent in by the two o’clock car.  Promptly at three-thirty the girls and Mrs. Harold entered the Maryland Avenue gate where they were met by Shortie, Wheedles, Happy, Durand and Ralph; Durand promptly appropriating Peggy, while Ralph, cried: 

“Come on, Polly, this is going to be like old times up at Montgentian.”

It would have been hard to picture a prettier sight than the skaters presented that afternoon, the boys in their heavy reefers and woolen watch-caps; the girls in toboggan caps and sweaters.  Over in the west the sky was a rich rosy glow, for the sun sinks behind the hills by four-thirty during the short winter afternoons.  The Naval Academy band stationed at the edge of the broad expanse of the ice-bound creek was sending its inspiring strains out across the keen, frosty air which seemed to hold and toy with each note as though reluctant to let it die away.

The boys took turns in pushing Mrs. Harold’s chair, spinning it along over the smooth surface of the ice in the wake of Peggy, Polly and the others, who now and again joined hands to “snap-the-whip,” “run-the-train,” or go through some pretty figure.  Polly and Ralph were clever at this and very soon Peggy caught the trick.  The creek was crowded, for nearly half the town as well as the people from the Yard were enjoying the rare treat.