“Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot print”
Then Mr. Bradley, as if imitating Mr. Robbins, hit the pond in almost the same spot. It was then Mr. Robbins’ turn to cry “bravo,” which he did, and, to Rollo’s dismay, Stella’s father twice, at least, took the name of his Maker in vain.
You may be sure it was in vain, for, from then on, things went from bad to worse, until Rollo could stand it no longer. He turned and walked quietly back toward the house.
The gentlemen did not notice his departure; they were too busy digging holes in the ground and throwing sand out of a ditch which, to Rollo, seemed deep enough already.
“Never,” thought Rollo, “have I seen men dig up so much ground without either putting anything in or taking anything out.”
As Rollo neared the house he noticed that the tennis-ground was deserted. Two rackets lay on the terrace-steps. He crossed the terrace quietly and peered into the dim living-room within which he saw Monty and Miss Lois sitting on a sofa.
“Hurrah,” cried Rollo, bounding into the room, “may I join you?”
They were playing pillows-and-keys.