the gravelled earth. Far to the front was the stage with its half dome;
the double-bass was tuning his instrument, a few others were sorting music
or running over difficult passages.

By this time the crowd was pouring in and spreading among the tables.
Harvey leaned back and watched the almost unbroken line that moved from
the gate to the steps. There were a great many family groups, with here
and there a chaperoned party from the suburbs. A sound of scraping and
squealing and grunting from the stage announced the orchestral
preliminaries. There was a scattering fusillade of applause as the tall
conductor appeared. Looking through the trees, Harvey could see him rap
his stand and raise both arms. The concert was on. Harvey's glance shifted
back to the stairway, and he started. On the bottom step, looking about
for a vacant table, was William C. Porter. Behind him, standing, with head
thrown back, was Miss Katherine Porter. For a moment she looked at the
shifting scene before her. Harvey noted with hungry eyes the poise of her
figure. Then she turned deliberately, and bowed to Harvey with a bright
smile.

A little later, as Harvey sat alone listening to the music, Mr. Porter
appeared, picking his way toward the centre aisle. Harvey watched him
idly. He finally reached the stairway, and came straight to Harvey's
table.

"Good evening, Mr. West," he said, holding out his hand. "Won't you join
us? We shall be here for an hour, anyway."

Harvey rose, and looked across the diagonal line of tables. Miss Porter
was leaning forward with a smile. Harvey's mind had been made up, but he
changed it and followed Mr. Porter.