Joey could give no better reason for mistrusting the strangers than that they seemed sly.
“I am afraid you are a person of exceedingly poor judgment then, Joey,” answered Miss Campbell with great dignity. “We shall see the gentlemen in the garden. It is less conspicuous than here. Go before and announce us.”
Following the little page, who resembled an imp in bottle green, they went forth into the garden, where in the distance they beheld two figures in white flannels seated on a rustic seat under a poinciana tree.
“They are,” whispered Nancy in an excited voice. “The blonde one is the English lord, I suppose, and the dark one is the marquis.”
“It may be just the other way around,” replied Billie. “Things always turn out contrariwise when you arrange them yourself beforehand.”
“I’m sure the blonde one is English,” repeated Nancy with conviction, “and from the back of his head, I should say he was quite handsome.”
While they were whispering together as they followed slowly after Miss Campbell, they were amazed to behold Timothy Peppercorn running at full speed down another walk which branched off toward the hotel. In his haste he leaped over a low stone bench and landed right beside the two strangers.
“If this isn’t jolly,” they heard him cry, slapping the blonde lord on the back. “By Jove, but I’m glad to see you. How are you, old man?”
Suddenly Miss Campbell pressed her lips together. Two red spots appeared on either cheek, and she hurried as fast as her diminutive feet could carry her toward the group of young men.
“Percival Algernon St. Clair,” she cried, shaking the blonde lord by the shoulders. “Charlie Clay! You young rascals, how dare you play a practical joke on an unprotected old lady and four helpless children? I would just like to box your jaws well, the both of you two upstarts! Marquis and Lord, indeed! Think of our having wasted the morning dressing up in our best clothes like this! You are a precious pair, but I’m glad to see you,” she added, beginning already to relent.