“Croquet isn’t my game,” she laughed. “I’d rather wield a tennis racquet than a mallet.”
Soon tiring of the sport they amused themselves by throwing a rubber ball to Wags who would pick it up in his mouth and return it to them.
Presently Iris and Azalea brought their sewing and came out to sit in the swing. They watched the girls for a time and then Iris called to them.
“Perhaps you would like to hear the rest of the story we were telling you the other day?” she asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Doris declared.
“I’m afraid we’re only boring you,” Azalea murmured. “We have no desire to inflict our troubles upon you.”
“Oh, but you aren’t,” Doris assured her. “We’re both very much interested.”
Leaving Wags to his own devices, the girls sat down in the swing beside the Misses Gates.
“You go on with the story,” Azalea murmured.
Iris did not begin at once but sat for some minutes gazing away. At last, with a sigh, she forced herself to take up the broken threads.