After greeting his hostess, Austin made his way toward the small group clustered round Patty.
With much chat and banter, he was served with tea and muffins, and so much attention was shown him that Patty concluded he must be a favourite indeed.
“I fear we have rudely run into a cloudburst or something,” remarked Cadwalader Oram, unsuccessfully trying to look through a window, whose stained glass was further obscured by slipping raindrops.
“Sit down, Caddy,” said Flo; “you mar the harmony of this meeting when you’re so restless.”
“Being thus admonished, young Oram crumpled himself gracefully into a chair,” drawled Floyd Austin, as Oram did that very thing, and Patty’s laughter rang out at the apt description.
“Do that again,” said Austin, looking gravely at Patty, but she only smiled saucily at him, and looked over his head at another man who was approaching.
“Mayn’t I be invited to join this all-star group?” If the speaker’s voice betokened a confidence in his own welcome, it was not misplaced, for smiles of greeting were bestowed on him, and Flo Carrington moved to make room for him between herself and Patty on the great settle.
“Striving to act as if a literary lion were an everyday occurrence, the ladies beamed graciously upon him,” droned Austin; and so pat was his allusion that they all laughed.
“This is Peter Homer, Miss Fairfield,” said Flo, and Austin added:
“Beyond all doubt, the most outrageously interesting man you have ever met.”