ently desirable, and the density of the crowd
made indulgence in precarious, addressed her next neighbour, whom she
had catalogued as a nice, friendly boy. "It's Mr. Brown, isn't it?" she
added in triumph at so easily associating the name with the face.

The young man's beaming countenance showed his delight. "Good for you,
Miss Bentley! It would be great. Let me have your plate while you
squeeze in."

This corner behind a mass of greens seemed to have been left with the
intention of protecting an elaborate cabinet that occupied a shallow
recess. However it might be, here was a refuge, difficult of access,
but possible. Margaret Elizabeth held on to her hat and dived in.

"Grand!" she cried. "This is beyond my wildest hopes," and she perched
herself on a short step-ladder, left here no doubt by the decorators,
and held out her hands for the plates. Mr. Brown found a more lowly seat
beneath a bay tree. They looked at each other and laughed.

"My position is a ticklish one, so to speak," he observed, vainly trying
to dodge the palm leaves to the right of him; "but I think we are
reasonably safe from pursuit."

"I haven't the remotest idea where my aunt is," Margaret Elizabeth
remarked, eating her ice in serene unconcern.

"Say, Miss Bentley, I have heard my cousin speak of you--Augustus
McAllister, you know."

"Are you Mr. McAllister's cousin?" Miss Bentley's tone and smile left
it to be inferred that this fact above any other was a passport to her
favour. It must be regretfully recognised, however, that it would have
been the same if Mr. Brown had mentioned the market-man.

Having thus successfully established his claim to notice, the Reporter,
as was his custom, went on to explain that he belonged to the moneyless
branch of the family.

Margaret Elizabeth assured him, in a grandmotherly manner, that it was
much better for a young man to have his way to make in the world than to
have too much money.

The Reporter owned this seemed to be the consensus of opinion. How the
strange notion had gained such vogue he could not understand, but there
was no use kicking when you were up against it.

"Of course, it must be hard work, but it must be interesting. Don't you
have exciting experiences?" Miss Bentley asked.

Oh, he had, certainly, and met such queer people, too. There was a
fellow who ran a Candy Wagon on the Y.M.C.A. corner, for instance. "You
ought to meet him, really, Miss Bentley, though, of course, you