"Fifteen degrees too hot," agreed Monica, throwing herself down on the grass beside the others and fanning herself with her hat. "Out on the road the heat's at simmering-point. I came to bring a message to Miss Russell, and I hear she's gone to Linforth and won't be back until half-past four. I think I shall wait for her."
"Oh, do!" cried the others. "We'll have a 'palaver' here under the trees."
"What's a 'palaver', please? I hope it's something cool and fizzy to drink."
"No, it's nothing of the sort. It's a kind of meeting, where everybody has to tell a story in turn."
"But I'm rigidly truthful!" objected Monica, with a twinkle in her eye.
"You naughty girl! You know we don't mean telling falsehoods. It's telling tales," said Irene.
"I'm no tell-tale either!"
"Don't be too funny. Your story will have to be longer than anyone else's to make up for this. Mildred, you explain, as I don't seem able to express myself properly."
"It can either be a story you have read, or one of something that has happened to yourself," said Mildred. "We prefer people's own adventures if we can get them."
"So few people have any adventures in real life!" said Monica.