one if your mouth had been all parched
up like the Ancient Mariner's, just before he bit his arm and sucked
the blood. Recollect that you have to speak distinctly and slowly, as
well as persuasively. You can't expect Miss King to do all the talking
in this case. Her business is to blush and hang back."

"I've told you already," said Simpkins, "that I'm simply--"

"Don't start an argument; but take a wisp of grass and wipe as much
dust off your shoes as you can. I don't object to dusty shoes for
myself in the least, but they don't suit your style."

Simpkins did as he was told, for he did not share Meldon's indifference
to dust. He also wiped his face carefully with a pocket handkerchief,
giving it a streaky look.

"I don't think," said Meldon, "that you've improved your appearance
much by that last performance. You were better before. But never
mind. Miss King has seen you at your best, the Sunday afternoon I
brought you up to call, and she'll recollect what you looked like then.
In any case, nothing you can do will make you as ghastly as you were
that day on the yacht. If she put up with you then, she won't mind you
now. Come on."

They left their bicycles near the gate, and walked up together along
the avenue.

"Pull yourself together now, Simpkins," said Meldon. "The crisis of
your life is almost on you. When we turn the next corner you'll see
Miss King seated on a wicker chair on the lawn, waiting for you. At
first she'll pretend not to see us; though, of course, she will see us
out of the corner of her eye. When we get quite close, so close that
she can't possibly ignore us any longer, she will look up suddenly,
cast down her eyes again with a blush, and exhibit every sign of
pleasurable embarrassment. That will be your opportunity. Step
forward and fling yourself at her feet, if that's the way you have
determined to do it. I shall slip quietly away, and be out of sight
almost at once. . . . Hullo!"

The exclamation was one of extreme surprise. The scene, when he turned
the corner, was not exactly as he had described it to Simpkins. Miss
King, indeed, was there, seated in a wicker chair, very much as he had
expected. Beside her was a table littered with tea things. At her
feet, on a rug, sat Major Kent, in an awkward attitude, with a
peculiarly silly look on his face. Sir Gilbert Hawkesby sat upright,
at a little distance, in another chair. He appeared to be delivering
some kind of