All the boys were out sliding. Ed Peet had come from over the river; Fred Danforth was there from the tavern; and George Sawtelle came running up from the big house under the willow. Others were there too, slipping along on Jack Frost's floor.
Little Albert looked out of the window, and saw the boys at their play. Why couldn't he go out too?
"Shall I go, mother?" he asked.
"Your slippers are too thin, Albert."
"Oh! I can put on grandpa's boots."
"Yes, you can go, but be careful. You are too young for such rough sport."
Off scampered the eager feet, and on went the big boots. A smile must have lighted up the mother's eyes as she heard her little boy tramping over the floor in the heavy boots.
The boys were taking their turn at sliding. Away down at the end of the line stood Albert. They were sliding carefully, not running too hard; for a little way out the ice was thin. After a while, it was Albert's turn. "I'll beat those big, clumsy boys," he thought.

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