"I have. That is why I have come down here to end my days in peace. I want everybody hereabouts to like me—you included, Miss Peggy."
"I do like you, Mr Pratt," protested Peggy. "Not, of course, like—"
"I understand. Well, I shall speak to your mother about Mr Raston. Oh, do not look so afraid, Miss Peggy. I know very well what I am about. I have managed much more obstinate people in my time. All you have to do is to look pleased as though you were delighted with me. That will put your mother on the wrong scent."
"Harold will not like it," objected Peggy, as they returned to join the others. "Harold is Mr Raston."
"I gathered that from your blush," said Pratt, with a chuckle. "Well, leave it to me. There is Harold making signals. What is up now?"
Mrs Bathurst informed them as soon as they came within earshot. "Come here at once, Peggy," she screamed. "Mr Pratt, come here! Mr Raston is about to take a group with his kodak. It will be a memorial of my picnic."
The American did not seem pleased. For the moment his usually active tongue was silent, and he seemed unwilling to form part of the group. "I do not care about having my likeness taken, Mrs Bathurst," he said.
"But indeed you must—in the group," said the lady, vigorously; "dear Mr Pratt, do not spoil the little memorial of my picnic."
"It can be taken without me, Mrs Bathurst."
"That would be the play of Hamlet with the Prince left out," replied the lady, gracefully. "Mrs Gabriel, add your entreaties."