. The other three
ladies added their French to hers. There was only one English body on
the loggia. It belonged to a bull-dog. The bull-dog barked loudly at
Simpson in English.

There was no "Cook's homme" to save Simpson this time. But he rose to
the occasion nobly. The scent of the mimosa inspired him.

"_Merci_," he said, "_Merci. Oui, n'est ce pas_? Delightful. Er--these
are--_ces sont mes amis._ Er--Dahlia, come along--er, _Monsieur et
Madame Mannering_--er--Myra, _la soeur de Monsieur_--- er--where are
you, old chap?--_le mari de la soeur de Monsieur._ Er--Thomas--er----"
(he was carried away by memories of his schoolboy French), "_le frere du
jardinier_--er----" He wheeled round and saw me; introduced me again;
introduced Myra as my wife, Archie as her brother, and Dahlia as
Archie's wife; and then with a sudden inspiration presented Thomas
grandly as "_le beau-pere du petit fils de mes amis Monsieur et Madame
Mannering._" Thomas seemed more assured of his place as Peter's
godfather than as the brother of the gardener.

There were four ladies; we shook hands with all of them. It took us a
long time, and I doubt if we got it all in even so, for twice I found
myself shaking hands with Simpson. But these may have been additional
ones thrown in. It was over at last, and we followed the staff indoors.

And then we had another surprise. It was broken to us by Dahlia, who, at
Simpson's urgent request, took up the position of lady of the house, and
forthwith received the flowing confidence of the housekeeper.

"Two of us have to sleep outside," she said.

"Where?" we all asked blankly.

We went on to the loggia again, and she pointed to a little house almost
hidden by olive-trees in a corner of the garden below us.

"Oh, well, that's all right," said Archie. "It's on the estate. Thomas,
you and Simpson won't mind that a bit, will you?"

"We can't turn Samuel out of his own house," said Myra indignantly.

"We aren't turning him; he wants to go. But, of course, if you and your
young man would like to live there instead----"

Myra looked at me eagerly.

"It would be rather fun," she said. "We'd have another little honeymoon
all to ourselves."

"It wouldn't really be a honeymoon," I objected. "We should always be
knocking up against trippers in the garden, Archies and Samuels and
Thomases and what not. They'd be all over the place."

Dahlia explained the domestic arrangements. The honeymooners had their
litt