hen Mr. Bradley, as if imitating Mr. Robbins, hit the pond in almost
the same spot. It was then Mr. Robbins' turn to cry "bravo," which he
did, and, to Rollo's dismay, Stella's father twice, at least, took the
name of his Maker in vain.

[Illustration: "Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot
print"]

You may be sure it was in vain, for, from then on, things went from
bad to worse, until Rollo could stand it no longer. He turned and
walked quietly back toward the house.

The gentlemen did not notice his departure; they were too busy digging
holes in the ground and throwing sand out of a ditch which, to Rollo,
seemed deep enough already.

"Never," thought Rollo, "have I seen men dig up so much ground
without either putting anything in or taking anything out."

As Rollo neared the house he noticed that the tennis-ground was
deserted. Two rackets lay on the terrace-steps. He crossed the terrace
quietly and peered into the dim living-room within which he saw Monty
and Miss Lois sitting on a sofa.

"Hurrah," cried Rollo, bounding into the room, "may I join you?"

They were playing pillows-and-keys.

ROLLO'S EVENING WITH
UNCLE GEORGE

IN WHICH OUR HERO UNDER THE TUTELAGE OF AN EXPERT,
BECOMES A BOY-ABOUT-TOWN

One cool morning in the early autumn, Rollo was sitting on the red
velvet hassock which his mother had given him for his birthday, his
chin resting on the sill of the window which faced toward Park Avenue.
Below was a pleasant picture of green spaces and cheerful nursemaids
attentively watching the tall constable on the corner, while their
little charges darted nimbly amid the passing automobiles whose black
tops glittered like the backs of large beetles. This was a scene which
Rollo had often contemplated with much satisfaction, but to-day he
found no pleasure in it whatsoever. Suddenly he heard a light step
behind him and turning perceived that Jonas had entered the room,
silently, as was his custom.

"Jonas," said Rollo, crossly, "I wish you would not steal up behind me
as you do. Since we have moved to the city and you have become my
mother's social secretary, instead of the hired man, you wear shoes
which do not warn me of your approach by their squeaking. It is not
right to spy so."

Now this was very rude of Rollo, and it may be plainly seen that he
was in an ill-humour, but Jonas only smiled pleasantly, which made
Rollo more angry than ever.

"You are mistaken, Rollo,"