the only golf maniacs present. Most of these dear people are even
ignorant as to who 'bogie' is, or why we should be so proud of
beating him. Where is my aunt? Poor Simmons was toddling all over
the place when we went in to put away our clubs, searching for her
with a telegram."

"Why didn't you open it?" asked Myra.

"Because my aunt never allows her telegrams to be opened. She loves
shocks; and there is always the possibility of a telegram containing
startling news. She says it completely spoils it if some one else
knows it first, and breaks it to her gently."

"Here comes the duchess," said Garth Dalmain, who was sitting where
he could see the little gate into the rose-garden.

"Do not mention the telegram," cautioned Jane. "It would not please
her that I should even know of its arrival. It would be a shame to
take any of the bloom off the unexpected delight of a wire on this
hot day, when nothing unusual seemed likely to happen."

They turned and looked towards the duchess as she bustled across the
lawn; this quaint old figure, who had called them together; who
owned the lovely place where they were spending such delightful
days; and whose odd whimsicalities had been so freely discussed
while they drank her tea and feasted off her strawberries. The men
rose as she approached, but not quite so spontaneously as they had
done for her niece.

The duchess carried a large wooden basket filled to overflowing with