'Not to-day. Please excuse me.
'Wych Hazel.'
It happened that invitations were out for a croquet party at Chickaree; and the day of the party was appointed the third succeeding these events. Thither of course al the best of the neighbourhood were invited.
The house at Chickaree stood high on a hill; nevertheless immediately about the house there was lawn-room enough and smooth greensward for the purposes of the play. The very fine old trees which bordered and overshadowed it lent beauty and dignity to the little green; and the long, low, grey house, with some of its windows open to the verandah, and the verandah itself extending the whole length of the building, with cane garden-chairs and Indian settees hospitably planted, made a cheery, comfortable background. September was yet young, and the weather abundantly warm; the sort of weather when everybody wants to be out of doors. No house in the country could show a prettier croquet-green than Chickaree that afternoon.
Mr. Falkirk had mounted the hill in advance of other comers, and stood surveying the prospect generally from the verandah.
'Who is to be here, Miss Hazel? I am like a bear newly come out of his winter-quarters—only that my seclusion has been in the other season of the year.'
'Pray let the resemblance go no further, sir! Who is to be here?' said Miss Kennedy, drawing on her dainty gloves,—'all the available people, I suppose. Unless they change their minds.'
'Have the goodness to enlighten me. Available people—available for what?'
'Croquet—and flirting.'
'If you please— I understand, I believe, the first term; it means, to stand on the green and roll balls about among each other's feet; but what is comprehended in "flirting"?'
'Standing in the air and rolling balls there,' said Miss
Kennedy.