's tact.

The play was very funny. Though only a trifling farce, it was written by
professionals, for the benefit of the charity, and was played by the
clever amateurs who had chosen such an odd name for their club. The
situations in the play were screamingly funny, and Patty shook with
laughter as she listened to the jokes and the merry by-play.

"Hist, she comes!" declared a weird figure in a sepulchral voice, as he
waited in the middle of the stage.

"Hist, she comes!"

But nobody came.

"That's her cue," he muttered; "what can be the matter? I say," he
cleared his throat and spoke louder: "Hist, she comes!" As the expected
entrance was still delayed, he only said: "Well, she ought to be hissed
when she does come!" And calmly sat down to wait for her, amid the
applause of the audience.

The short playlet soon came to an end, and still shaking with laughter,
the party went out again into the beautiful atmosphere which is found on
a spring day in Regent's Park.

"Now, my children," said Mrs. Hartley, "I simply cannot walk about any
more. I'm going to sit in one of those chairs yonder, for I see some
people I know over there. You can amuse yourselves with Punch and Judy,
or Ring Toss or whatever you like, and come back to me in an hour or so.
Sinclair, look after the little ones, won't you?"

It was a great joke that Sinclair, the oldest Hartley boy, should look
after the others. He had reached the age of twenty, and was much more
grave and dignified than Bob and Grace. Mrs. Hartley often declared she
could even trust him to match samples for her, so careful was he. So the
young people wandered away and spent a delightful hour looking at the
beautiful or grotesque sights that adorned the fair.

Patty could not do much financially, but under cover of giving to
charity, she bought pretty souvenirs for Mabel and Mrs. Hartley, and
laughingly invited the group to be photographed by a Camera Fiend.

This personage was clothed in red, and with black horns and Mephistophelean
countenance was made to look as much like a fiend as possible. With
outlandish hoots and yells, he posed the group and took several snapshots,
which they were to call for later.

As they concluded it was nearly time to drift back to Mrs. Hartley, Patty
noticed a gentleman who stood at a little distance, looking at her
intently.

"Who's your friend, Patty?" asked Mabel. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," said Patty, slowly. "He's Sir Otho Markleham.