Miss Dunbar had put up her amber parasol, and the lace about it fell just across her eyes. This left the seat beside her free.
"Perhaps a little turn——" urged Mr. Hopworthy again. Mr. Ferris regarded him defiantly.
"As you have read my story, sir," he said, "I can scarcely hope to include you in my audience."
"But it is not at all the sort of thing one is satisfied to hear but once," Mr. Hopworthy declared, in a tone distinctly flattering. Mr. Ferris moved uneasily.
"I really forget how it began," he asserted. "Perhaps another time——"
"If I might presume to jog your memory——" said Mr. Hopworthy, with deference.
"Oh, that would be delightful!" exclaimed Miss Dunbar. "With two such story-tellers, I feel just like Lalla Rookh."
Mr. Ferris was upon his feet at once.
"I suggest we adjourn to the striped tent," he said; "they have all sorts of ices there."
"Oh, but I mean the Princess, not frozen punch," declared Mabel, settling herself more securely in the corner of the garden seat. "Please sit down, and begin by telling me exactly what an almoner is."