"I distinctly didn't say she was an angel," I returned.

"Now, come, Basil; I see you're keeping something back. What did
you try to do for those people? Did you tell them where you were
stopping?"

"Yes, I did. They asked me, and I told them."

"Did you brag the place up?"

"On the contrary, I understated its merits."

"Oh, very well, then," she said, quite as if I had confessed my
guilt; "they will come here, and you will have your romance on your
hands for the rest of the month. I'm thankful we're going away the
first of August."



CHAPTER III



The next afternoon, while we were sitting in the park waiting for
the Troy band to begin playing, and I was wondering just when they
would reach the "Washington Post March," which I like because I can
always be sure of it, my unknown friends came strolling our way.
The man looked bewildered and bored, with something of desperation
in his troubled eye, and his wife looked tired and disheartened.