“Ah, that’s just the trouble. They’re so dreadfully proud they won’t accept so much as a glass of lemonade from one who is their guest.”
“Try it, and see. It may not be so difficult as you think.”
So Patty went gaily off to the Garden Party. Mrs. Hartley called for her in her carriage. Mabel was with her, and they were to meet the boys at the park.
It was a beautiful drive, in the open victoria, along the busy streets of the city, and then on out to the green slopes of Regent’s Park.
The portion of the park devoted to the Garden Party was gay with booths and flower-stands, tents and arbours, and catch-penny shows of all sorts.
Sinclair and Robert were awaiting them, and also another young Englishman, whom Bob introduced as Mr. Lawton. The latter was a typical Briton, with a slight drawl, and a queer-looking monocle in his right eye.
“Awfully jolly to meet you,” he exclaimed, as he shook Mrs. Hartley’s hand, and bowed formally to the girls.
He fascinated Patty, he was so exactly like the young Englishmen pictured in Punch, and she waited to hear him say “Bah Jove!” But he didn’t say it, he contented himself with “My word!” by way of expletive, and though it didn’t seem to mean anything, it was apparently useful to him.
“You must jolly well let me be your guide,” he declared; “Mrs. Hartley and I will lead and the rest of you will follow wherever we go. First, we make the grand tour.”
This meant joining a long procession that were sauntering along a board walk, on either side of which were settees filled with people.