“Oh, sartainly, mistis. De big gates ain’t never locked. Anybody is free to go in and gather all de flowers dey want. It seem to me like I seen some folkses dodgin’ ’bout de trees when we went pas’, but guess dey’s all gone now. Shall I drive you in at the kerridge road?”
“No; you may wait for us here in the shade of these trees while we walk. We will return in fifteen minutes.”
They pushed open the wrought iron front gates that clanged heavily to behind them, and turning from the broad graveled walk, plunged into the miniature thickets of blossoming shrubbery, shaking out odors of rose and jasmine with the slightest touches as they walked along toward a graceful little summer-house, heavily matted with rich purple clematis bells starring the dark green of the leaves.
“Let us go in,” said Madame Ray, stepping over the threshold closely followed by Cinthia.
Then both recoiled with a startled cry.
Two young men in cycling suits were in the summer-house.
They had slipped in there to hide when they saw a carriage stop at the gate and two ladies entering the grounds.
“Sight-seers whom we do not know, I suppose, so let us hide in here and finish our talk and our cigars till they leave. I care no more for womankind, be she never so fair, since I have lost the lovely queen of my heart,” one said to the other; so they fled the scene till it should be safe to venture out.
He was dark and striking in appearance, the other was fairer and younger than his companion by several years. His clustering locks were light golden brown, and the beauty of his face was enhanced by the expressive dark-blue eyes, where shadows of secret sorrow seemed to lurk in half-discovered ambush.
“Fred they are coming this way by their voices. Let us turn our backs to the door, so that they will see we are not anxious to be disturbed,” he said, presently.