And he was exquisitely clothed for
the part. His knickerbockers, in the elegance of their lines, were the
delight of beholders. Ski-ing became the rage. Even Nellie insisted on
hiring a pair. And the pronunciation of the word "ski" aroused long
discussions and was never definitely settled by anybody. The Captain
said "skee," but he did not object to "shee," which was said to be the
more strictly correct by a lady who knew some one who had been to
Norway. People with no shame and no feeling for correctness said
brazenly, "sky." Denry, whom nothing could induce to desert his luge,
said that obviously "s-k-i" could only spell "planks." And thanks to his
inspiration this version was adopted by the majority.
On the second day of Nellie's struggle with her skis she had more
success than she either anticipated or desired. She had been making
experiments at the summit of the track, slithering about, falling, and
being restored to uprightness by as many persons as happened to be near.
Skis seemed to her to be the most ungovernable and least practical means
of travel that the madness of man had ever concocted. Skates were
well-behaved old horses compared to these long, untamed fiends, and a
luge was like a tricycle.
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