"Mrs. Brenswick isn't exactly keen about it," admitted Keets. "But she says she'll go. And Brenswick himself and Miss Woltor and Allan John—" It was amusing how everybody called Allan John "Allan John" without title or subterfuge or self- consciousness of any kind.
With their arms across each other's shoulders the Bride and Bridegroom came frolicking by on their way to the foot of the stairs.
"Oh, Miss Davies!—Miss Davies!" they called up teasingly. "Are you willing that Allan John should go to the cave to- day?"
Smiling responsively but not one atom teased, the May Girl jumped up from her tableful of shells and came out to the edge of the balustrade to consider the matter.
"Allan John! Allan John!" she called. "Do you really want to go?"
"Why, yes," admitted Allan John, "if everybody's going."
Behind the May Girl's looming height and loveliness the little squat figure of Rollins shadowed suddenly.
"Miss Davies and I are not going," said Rollins.
"Not—going?" questioned the May Girl.
"Not going," chuckled Rollins, "unless she walks with me!" He didn't say "arm-in-arm." He didn't need to. That inference was entirely expressed by the absurdly triumphant little glint in his eye.