Later in the afternoon she arranged the table attractively for tea, and made a pile of dainty sandwiches. And it was in the midst of this occupation that she was interrupted by the jingling of the telephone.
"Is this Miss Artman? Miss Doris— Do you recognize my voice?"
"Oh, Mr. Wizard, I wish I didn't. Then you would have to tell me."
He laughed at that, and his laugh was as pleasantly aggravating by telephone as in person.
"However did you come to call me up?" she asked.
"Sad news, my friend, sad news. Two young girls claiming to belong to you are under arrest out here on a charge of trespassing."
Doris trembled so she nearly dropped the receiver.
"Arrest?" she faltered.
"Well, practically. You see there is a big sign up which says, 'No trespassing,' and along came two young girls walking beside the creek, picking flowers, and shooing birds, and chasing rabbits, as natural as life. Out jumps a wild and angry game-keeper—so-called. He says, 'Didn't you see that sign, "No Trespassing"?' The little dark one began to cry, but the other one said, 'We are not trespassing, we are picking flowers.' 'They are my personal flowers,' said the game-keeper. 'Nothing of the kind, they are God's, you didn't even plant them, for they are wild.' Then I arrive, like mercury on the wings of the wind, and the dark one was still weeping—"