en Chugsey, the
retired English light-weight champion, came to butler--_oh_, what
smashing three-handed rounds we used to have! Bully old governor, who
was never so busy on his sermons but what he could take a walk or a ride
with me; or talk with me, or _fight_ with me! Why, he--

By Jove, my dashed monocle got so cloudy of a sudden, I almost missed
the chauffeur's move--_almost_, don't you know!

And then--

"I say, you know!" I said disgustedly, as I screwed my monocle at him
there, his big yellow mat sticking out of sight through the jolly vines.
"Awfully raw thing to strike at a man and leave your guard open like
that--I _could_ have put it over your heart, don't you know!"

I heard a little sound behind me and there was she!

"Oh!" I gasped as I slipped into my coat. And now I _was_ miserable, for
I remembered how kind this chauffeur, Scoggins, had been to her. And for
her to have seen me in this vulgar row!

"Yes, I saw it all," she said, as I moved toward her, murmuring some
jolly effort at apology. Her eyes were shining. "I saw it all, sir--and
_heard_. And just when I had hunted you up with _these_!"--and then I
saw that her arms were burgeoning with roses. "See what I've been doing
for you, sir!"

"For me?" By Jove, it was all I could say as I took them!

"And you ran off!" She pouted adorably--naturally, too, dash it. I've
seen them put it on when they looked like they had toothache. "How am I
ever going to thank you about the pajamas?" By Jove, her big blue eyes
looked me frankly in the face. There was never a quiver of
embarrassment. "It's wonderful--and to find them _here_!"

"I'd--I'd have got 'em to you sooner," I faltered, swallowing, "but
they've been lost a day or two--thief stole them from my rooms, you
know."

"How on earth _did_ you ever get hold of them? I never expected to see
those pajamas again. Oh, you must tell me all about how you managed
it!"--and we moved away--"I just _wish_ father were here!"

_I_ didn't! Dash it, it made me squirm to think of his return.

As we left the pergola behind, I looked backward through its arch, and
there was the chauffeur, standing in the shadows, looking after us. And
long after, as we turned from the straight avenue leading through the
pergola, I descried his figure, still looking after us, unchanged,
immovable.

It was rum!

But I had other things to think of as we sat out in the loggia--chiefly
of her, herself; withal, wondering gloomily