they had established themselves at a table surrounded by
flowering shrubs, and yet strategically situated not too far distant
from the kitchen or the cafe, no one found time to wait upon them, and
they finally obtained the services of one of the waiters only by the
expedient of holding tightly to his flying apron. Roddy commanded him
to bring whatever was being served at the large table.

"That cook," Roddy pointed out, "is too excited to bother with our
order; but, if there's enough for twenty, there will be enough for two
more."

Although they were scorned by the waiters, the young men were
surprised to find that to the gentlemen of the birthday-party their
coming was of the utmost interest, and, though the tables were much
too far apart for Roddy to hear what was said, he could see that many
glances were cast in his direction, that the others were talking of
him, and that, for some reason, his presence was most disconcerting.

Finally, under pretence of giving an order to his coachman, one of the
birthday-party, both in going and returning from the gate, walked
close to their table and observed them narrowly. As he all but paused
in the gravel walk opposite them, Roddy said with conviction:

"No! Walter Pater never gave the Stoic philosophy a just
interpretation, while to Euphuism----"

"On the contrary," interrupted Peter warmly, "Oscar Hammerstein is the
ONLY impressario who can keep the pennant flying over grand opera and
a roof garden. Believe me----"

With a bewildered countenance the Venezuelan hastily passed on.
Placidly the two young men continued with their breakfast.

"Even if he _does_ understand English," continued Roddy, "that should
keep him guessing for a while."

As they, themselves, had no interest in the birthday-party, and as
they had eaten nothing since early coffee on the steamer, the young
men were soon deep in the joy of feasting. But they were not long to
remain in peace.

From the bushes behind them there emerged suddenly and quietly a young
negro. He was intelligent looking and of good appearance. His white
duck was freshly ironed, his straw hat sported a gay ribbon. Without
for an instant hesitating between the two men, he laid a letter in
front of Roddy. "For Mr. Forrester," he said, and turning, parted the
bushes and, as quickly as he had come, departed.

Roddy stared at the hedge through which the messenger had vanished,
and his wandering eyes turned toward the birthday-party