De Forest contemplated her with new interest. "Ah, can you. 'Tis a gift of the gods given to few. And when do you choose, may I ask? Apparently not to-day."
"'Tisn't my picnic."
"Oh! Is it Miss Lane's?"
"One would say it was, from the way she slaves for it," remarked Gerald.
"Why don't you help too?" asked De Forest, breaking off blades of grass and flinging them out singly upon the air.
"For Miss Masters' excellent reason: it is not my picnic."
"You contribute your valuable aid solely to your own undertakings then?"
"Why am I called upon to contribute it to any other?"
"'Tis a problem for philosophers. But for argument's sake, let us say for the good of humanity at large, and of the Dexters in particular."
"I am not bound to the Dexters by any obligation that I can see to help them carry out their entertainment. If they are not equal to it, they should not give it."