At that moment William was sitting on a gate far from the main road reading the note. On his face was a smile of pure bliss. There was a look of purpose in his eye.
******
The evening arrived. William as a Page, Ginger as Ace of Clubs, Douglas as a Goat Herd, Henry as a Gondolier, stood in a sheepish group and were gazed at proudly by their fond mothers. They looked far from happy, but the thought of the Brigands’ clothes concealed in the summer house comforted them. Robert as Henry V was having a good deal of trouble with his costume. He had closed the vizor of his helmet and it refused to open. Several of his friends were trying to force it. Muffled groans came from within.
“JUST TO THINK, DARLING,” MURMURED ROBERT, “THAT
LAST WEEK I DIDN’T KNOW YOU. YOU’VE GIVEN A NEW
MEANING TO MY LIFE.”
Violet Elizabeth was dressed as a Star. She was leaping up and down and squeaking, “Look at me. I’m a thtar!” She shed stars at every leap, and an attendant nurse armed with needle and cotton sewed them on again.
Pierrots, peasant girls, harlequins, kings, queens, gypsies and representatives of every nationality filled the room. It was noticed, with no particular interest on anyone’s part, that William the Page was no longer the centre of the sheepish group of fancy-dressed Outlaws. William the Page had crept into the ladies’ dressing-room, and in the temporary absence of the attendant (who was engaged in carrying on an impromptu flirtation with a good-looking chauffeur in the drive) he purloined a lady’s black velvet evening cloak and a filmy scarf. Fortunately the cloak had a hood....
******
Robert, helmetless and rather purple in the face as the result of his prolonged sojourn behind his vizor (from which he had finally been freed by a tin opener borrowed from the kitchen), came to the rose garden. Upon the seat that was the appointed trysting place a petite figure was awaiting him shrouded in a cloak.
“Glory!” breathed Robert softly.