“Just a figure sitting here on the bank,” answered Ruth.
“Oh!” he exclaimed in a tone of evident relief.
“Why, Major,” cried Miss Sallie, “one would think you believed in ghosts.”
“And so I do, Sallie, my dear,” declared the gentle old major, “but only in the ghosts of my lost youth, which seem to appear to me to-day in the forms of all these delightful young people. What about tea, Miss Ruth Stuart?” he demanded, turning to Ruth.
The chauffeur brought out the elaborate tea basket which had served them so well at the Gypsy camp and Ruth and Barbara proceeded to make the tea while the other girls unpacked boxes of delicious sandwiches and tea cakes.
“This is a very beautiful spot,” observed José. “If it were perpetual summer I could live and die on this mossy bank and never tire of it!” Walking a little apart from the others he stretched himself out at full length on the ground, staring up into the branches overhead.
Then the other boys, who had been strolling about under the trees, returned, but they were not alone. They had espied Zerlina in the depths of the woods, with her guitar slung over her shoulder, and persuaded her to go back with them to the pool.
“You see we’ve brought a wandering minstrel with us,” cried Jimmie. “She has promised to sing us a song of the Romany Rye, haven’t you, Zerlina?”
The girls greeted Zerlina cordially. She was presented to the major, but José, as she approached, had turned over on his side and flung his arm over his head, as if he were asleep.
“Leave him alone. He’s dreaming,” said Jimmie. “Give Zerlina some tea and cake, and then we’ll have a song.”